Why am I in love with people being in love with me? Why aren't I more concerned about whether or not I am in love with them? I watch with pleasure as they fall for me because I'm such an out of this world character, no one you've ever had the pleasure to converse with before, yet I never stop to contemplate my feelings for them. Why is that?
Do I only love them only if they love me first? I'm a magical mystery, a puzzle to be solved, aloof yet magnetic and inviting, charming and too good to be true. I'm all those things and less of the "too good to be true". Why can't I believe in myself? And I say that, not in a pleading with myself tone but with an "am I not allowed?" tone. I've sat in the wings far too long. I want my subjects to behold me and put me on a pedestal upon which no one can knock me off. I deserve it after all this time of dark, blank space.
You don't get my meaning. You have no idea what I am talking about. This is all stream of consciousness. It's just flowing from my fingertips. It's what I am wondering about right now. I had to write it down to make it real.
I am worthy of adoration. Aren't we all? Are some of us more than others? If you think you are, then aren't you? I'm going to think I am and hopefully I will be.
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You don't have to agree with me. Just don't be a jerk.