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The Park

The confused

 I sit on this park bench and I watch. How are they so sure. How do they know. I watch these girls as they happily clutch the arms of these boys staring lovingly into their eyes. How do they know for sure that that guy is the one? How do they know they love them? How do they know they want to be with them? How do they know that they want to get married? How do they know that they won't get bored? 

 I can't know. I have never known. Was it love? Is what I am feeling attraction? Is it the attention I seek? Do I want more? How do I know? How is it easy for all these girls that I see to know what they want? What if I am wrong? What if he's not the one, what if I break his heart? What if he breaks mine? 

 Don't get me wrong, rejection doesn't scare me. Words that convey "I don't feel the same way about you," has never scared me. Probably because I haven't faced rejection, true rejection. Is it rejection if you don't want to really be with them? Is it hurtful if you can shrug it off and be okay? 

 The last guy who spoke of interest, what did I tell him? I'm not sure. Nice guy, my type but not my type? I wasn't sure. I am not sure still. I smile at a happy couple, a slight hint of jealousy tugging at my heart. Not for the love they share, but because she knows what she wants.
The invisible

I watch her on the park bench. Was it stalking if I didn't intend her any harm? I smile as she looks confused. I hate that look on her face, uncertainty, the way she looked at me when I told her I loved her. She didn't know? She wasn't sure? But I watch her. Watch her observe people as they pass. She reads people so well.

She can't know. She doesn't know. She knows people, but doesn't know herself? Or what she wants? She was attracted to me. She enjoyed speaking to me but when I said I loved her. I got silence with that same confused expression.


Rejection, the pain of it is more than just a shadow, more than just a flesh wound, more than most pain that I have felt. It drove me to this point, to understand her, know her. Maybe even help her figure out what she wants.


I watch her, as I see her smile at a couple. She respects their love, but not mine? I feel a slight hint of longing tugging at my heart. Not because of the couple, but because it was time. I gripped the knife harder in my hand, maybe she wasn't sure what she wanted, but I was.

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