Letter #2

I need everyone to love me, all at once, right now. And that's why I can't look you in the eye, or why the heartbeat in my throat races ahead of the words and then I end up knee-less and faltered in front of you - a sickening prospect. I've said it before - I only ever wanted to be something you looked on like silver. I would be the gold. I would be untarnished, for you - not out of love. Out of a word of an emotion that hasn't been created yet.

I had a dream. It was for you and the book I am reading. I don't know which I love more - I wish there would be an opportunity for me to talk to you about it. I would be gold then.

Today, I gave you one idea. And you smiled and looked proud and gave my ego plenty of nutrition, and I smiled and tried to pretend it wouldn't be the only thing skipping through my head as I waltzed home. I was wrong, evidently - I stroked home like a dark streak. The Elitists were being god-darned awful. And for the one brilliance that came out of me today - there was a million silent extremes. And you hated me for that - I could lie, pretend, or deny that it ever existed - but I came from the Silent Corner and you were either mocking or despising me, and I won't make the decision about which I'd prefer.