Sporadic Insights

“For all the philosophy you spew, it was a pretty thoughtless thing to say.” He spat, spitting spite seemed his favorite thing to do.1

Well, I could spit too. “Who are you to say that every word I say hasn’t been agonized over? Sure, Jesse, you’ve been watching me for a very considerable amount of time, but imaginary conversations don’t teach you -”2

“Ok, so I’m not perfect, but neither are you! You are, my dear, much weaker than you like people to think.” He was gasping, sweating even. The tears swelled in the corners of his eyes.3

I couldn’t help it, I laughed at him. 4

“You!” he cried over my laughter, “like to think you’re so much stronger than everyone else!” He gulped, swallowing his sob. He rose his shaky finger to point at me, I stopped laughing. But I still smiled. He continued, “But someone who’s strong, in the true sense of the word, doesn’t go insulting people they don’t know to friends they can’t name-” Oh, little boy, you just crossed the line.5

“So,” I began in an even voice, he shut up quickly, “you overheard my little conversation with Rebecca. Hm?” I chuckled softly, watching him from beneath my eyelashes.6

“Well, my self-righteous little boy,” I moved to touch his shoulder, he didn’t move away, “You shouldn’t eavesdrop on things you don’t want to hear. I said you had a weak personality, that you were a sniffling, insignificant little boy, and that I would never, ever, return your feelings.” My pitch rose to a child’s tone at the last words, I pursed my lips and blinked my eyes in mockery. 7

I dropped my hand, he looked disappointed, how pathetic. “Well, Jesse,” I drew out his name, “I never, ever, thought I was strong. I just always knew I was better,” I shrugged a little, and blinked three times in fast succession. “And quite honest,” I added quickly. 8

“And oh, Jesse, my misguided friend, it is so hard to be humble when you’re great. But, oh, wait, you can’t relate to that, can you? I suppose not-“9

He interrupted me, “So, yeah, you’re better,” He raised his hands and dropped them quickly in awkward body language. “But you’re pretty much perfect, I mean, you are smart, gifted even for the gifted classes, you have so many friends it’s hard for you to remember them, and you’re pretty.” He quirked his lips at the last word, and stopped dead. He was going somewhere with this.10

“Jesse,” I sighed, and waved my hand at him, “Spare me the flattery, I get enough of it from people who matter, get to the point.”11

“You’re smart, but you have no wisdom, you have so many friends, but beneath their friendly faces, they’re all eager to stab you in the back, and you’re pretty,” His tone made me shudder, and before I could help it, I backed up. His words were so simple, and had so many holes, but somehow, for some reason, they were getting to me.12

He advanced, standing tall in all his lankiness, and moved toward me smoothly, as I had. “You’re so, so, pretty...” His voice was hoarse, cracking in places that scared me. He put his hand on my shoulder, and clenched to keep me in place. 13

Suddenly, before I could kick him away in an onslaught of fury, he kissed me. In such an unromantic way, it was harsh, and it put strain on my mind, pulling at it, hurting me. 14

When he pulled away, I realized I was crying. It was just one tear. But it was fat, and it was ugly, rolling repulsively down my cheek. He caught it between his lips, and kept his lips pressed there for a moment longer.15

I felt the whisper come through the pores of my cheek and into my body, “But you’re an ugly, ugly, human being.”16