rapidskipper32
Newcomer
2 messages
joined Jun 2020
The topic of arrogance was given to me.
Maybe online I would notice something else, but, face to face, the scene would probably go something like this:
From a distance, I’d automatically notice the ratio of my body mass compared to everyone else around. Then I’d see how that mass moves through space.
Up close—first I’d notice dark hair and eyes, then thin wrists and a long neck, and the contrast between my waist and hips would especially catch my eye.
Since physical appearance is the first thing I notice.
I’d conclude that I look elegant, refined, and slender, but maybe my legs are too short. Or my torso is too long, I guess.
I’d like the choice of fabric and the cut of the clothes I chose to wear.
My face might seem a bit too small for my body. The aesthetic would be a little strange, hard to define. Sweet? Pretty? Ugly? Interesting? Probably the last one.
The eyes would grab my final attention; they are quite lively. Some people say—sparkling. I’d think about how intense my gaze is.
After that, I’d notice a sense of not belonging, as if that person were just there by accident rather than being part of the world; I’d notice how she keeps to herself.
Immediately after, once I interacted with myself—I’d notice a distance without any distance. Something so familiar yet so remote.
Depending on the direction of the conversation, I’d notice some kind of inner restlessness that would make it uncomfortable to stand next to myself. A restlessness not because of me, but from the very core of who I am.
But after that burst of unrest, I’d feel an understanding from myself, and that would surprise me.
That someone with such restlessness knows the world in that way.
The whole time, that version of me would focus entirely on me, so I’d feel important, while she—she wouldn't even see herself anymore.
I’d feel like I’m talking to a child who isn't a child. Something would feel "off," though I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It would be weird that this version of me approaches me with so much trust.
In the end, I’d be confused. That version of me would be so striking at first, but somewhere along the way, she would hide within the interaction with me.
So I would step away, just so I could see.
Briefly put, I’d notice tenderness, roughness, maladjustment, and a suppressed anger that causes unrest; I’d feel scanned to the core, naked. I’d feel restless, but I wouldn't be able to stop the conversation; I’d feel like I had fallen into a completely different world.
The creepiest thing I would notice is that the person, me, looks straight at me from start to finish, as if she doesn't even notice herself.
As if it hurts her that I am thinking about her, as if she lives freely with the world but is at odds with herself, as if she isn't even aware that she is being watched.
That’s what I’d see at first.
Secondly, I’d notice that I am just as human as she is, and that’s when I’d realize why I feel so familiar and close standing next to myself.
