Pretentious Teenage Girl

A melancholy and tender heart, and for some reason, I couldn't really reach you in a way that could matter.

I've accidentally been in love with the same boy for nearly my entire life, and I don't think I'll ever tell him.

But at the same time, I think what I have actually done should have been enough. It should have been enough that I implored all of the secret circumstances, and I yearned for a glimpse of him in the shadow of hope and trust.

I trusted nobody, yet I trusted myself, so who am I if I am not a hypocrite?

A gift is such a perilous form of love. How should we entrust that our life's feelings and experiences get conveyed through a measly object? Is there validation that solidifies the true essence of an object?

So, here's my suggestion. Don't give just one gift. Give two gifts. Not one, and not anymore. Humans have a natural tendency to believe that just the instructions are the ones in the wrong. How are we supposed to label the true object of desire or end goal as being a limitation to our minds when we truly just want something to alleviate us?

Just follow the damn instructions.

Get one solid and concrete gift. Let it be something that you chose because it fit the basic criteria. Cheap, somewhat meaningful, a little taunting, but nothing too deliberating.

However, this shouldn't be something that conveys anything to the recipient.

Sorry, that's kinda mean. I guess you could get whatever person whatever thing they want on whatever account you possess.

I'll remain grandiloquent, and I will continue talking about a boy that I never even spoke to no more than two minutes over the decade-long relationship of "knowing each other."

I should have gotten him a gift. I probably thought about a myriad of precious little things I could get him. But, I never did, because we had never even spoken to each other.

It's absurd.

And I'm just a pretentious teenage girl.

And can't a pretentious teenage girl just do the best she can?

It's just too damn arduous to attain a gift. It'd be kinda crazy to give him anything as well. It's because I'd imagined reuniting with him for such a long time, but when I saw him again, he was looking at me.

But that's just the problem. It had been three years since he had looked at me, and while I had imagined that stare aiming to recreate it in my inquisitive mind, I had never been able to do it justice. But I saw him, and he stared at me, and I must have nearly stopped breathing.

But, a couple of months went by, and my heart started to ache less for him, and he started to look at me less, and I think that's just called growing up.

And, I had no stupid and delirious instructions left for my mind to contemplate in regards to whether I should have gotten him a concrete gift or gift that could mean remotely anything to the recipient. Well, I guess my first piece of advice is, can you even gift him in the first place?

I thought of the gifts. For nearly my entire life!

I could've gotten the gift, given it to him, and I could've been nicer to him, but I'm just a pretentious teenage girl.

A pretentious teenage girl.

Who had accidentally been in love with the same boy for nearly her entire life. But not anymore.

-

A melancholy and tender heart, and for some reason, he couldn't really reach me in a way that could matter.

He's accidentally been in love with me for nearly my entire life, and I don't think he'll ever tell me.

But at the same time, he thinks about what he could have actually done and how it should have been enough. It should have been enough that he implored all of the secret circumstances, and he yearned for a glimpse of her in the shadow of hope and trust.

He trusted nobody, yet he trusted himself, so who is he if he is not a hypocrite?

A gift is such a perilous form of love. How should we entrust that our life's feelings and experiences get conveyed through a measly object? Is there validation that solidifies the true essence of an object?

So, here's his suggestion. Don't give just one gift. Give two gifts. Not one, and not anymore. Humans have a natural tendency to believe that just the instructions are the ones in the wrong. How are we supposed to label the true object of desire or end goal as being a limitation to our minds when we truly just want something to alleviate us?

Just follow the damn instructions.

Get one solid and concrete gift. Let it be something that you chose because it fit the basic criteria. Cheap, somewhat meaningful, a little taunting, but nothing too deliberating.

However, this shouldn't be something that conveys anything to the recipient.

Sorry, that's kinda mean. He guesses you could get whatever person thing they want on whatever account you possess.

He'll remain grandiloquent, and he will continue talking about a girl that he never even spoke to no more than two minutes over the decade-long relationship of "knowing each other."

He should have gotten me a gift. He probably thought about a myriad of precious little things he could get me. But, he never did, because we had never even spoken to each other.

It's absurd.

And he's just a stubborn teenage boy.

And can't a stubborn teenage boy just do the best she can?

It's just too damn arduous to attain a gift. It'd be kinda crazy to give me anything as well. It's because he'd imagined reuniting with me for such a long time, but when he saw me again, I was looking at me.

But that's just the problem. It had been three years since I had looked at him, and while he had imagined that stare aiming to recreate it in his inquisitive mind, he had never been able to do it justice. But he saw me, and I stared at him, and he must have nearly stopped breathing.

But, a couple of months went by, and his heart started to ache less for me, and I started to look at him less, and he thinks that's just called growing up.

And, he had no stupid and delirious instructions left for his mind to contemplate in regards to whether he should have gotten me a concrete gift or gift that could mean remotely anything to the recipient. Well, he guesses his first piece of advice is, can he even gift me in the first place?

He thought of the gifts. For nearly his entire life!

He could've gotten the gift, given it to me, and he could've been nicer to me, but he's just a stubborn teenage boy.

A stubborn teenage boy.

Who had accidentally been in love with the same girl for nearly his entire life. But not anymore.