sometimes i miss my cousins so much. i don’t even really know why. but i find myself thinking some days when i’m around certain people, “i’d rather be talking to lucky than you!” because lucky is ten years old and he’s the most thoughtful and understanding and expressive person that i haven’t talked to..for a long time..my family avoids their family, which is the problem..because i think everyday, i’m always wanting the same thing, i mean i’m always waiting for someone to be thoughtful, really, and say something thoughtful and understanding, but all they seem to be able to manage are some disappointing hellos. people hate it when i’m quiet, but really, i hate it when people don’t say anything thoughtful. and i know it’s a terrible thing; how can i do this to people! getting mad at them and ignoring them and saying things like “i don’t know why but i’m mad at you” when i know EXACTLY why.. like that girl in Girl, Interrupted, she said “How can i get better if i don’t know my disease?” - or something like that - and then Whoopi Goldberg said “but you do! you just explained it to me perfectly!” or something like that. and it’s true, she knew, and i know, i mean i know what’s wrong; i want you to open up and tell me something that i didn’t ask about. and i know where this habit came from, too, it’s because i really am quiet, and i really can’t say anything thoughtful or understanding, because i can’t think that clearly when i try. i can’t explain things, or describe things, and that’s why i sort of expect others to do it for me; and when they don’t, i’m frustrated and confused and annoyed. there’s a reason all my best friends, throughout school, from preschool to eleventh grade, have been talkative and honest and smart and weird. because weird doesn’t mean stupid, it means having the ability to think interesting thoughts and express them in dumb, adorable ways that make other people question themselves and want to read literature or comics or listen to music you don’t really like or something. my cousins and my best friends are the fucking weirdest people i know. maybe it makes me sad that i’m not as weird as them. maybe i’ll always want to be with people who are weirder than me. maybe, when i’m mad or frustrated or confused or annoyed, i just want someone who is honestly weird to play a song that they know i know and that they know i understand and explains things to me perfectly and describes how i’m feeling and they’ll tell me to sing it. and they’ll sing with me even if they don’t know the words, and they won’t tell me to stop tapping my foot or drumming on their lap, and they’ll ask me things like, “what are you writing?” when they see me writing even though they know they don’t have to, and they’ll get mad at me if i don’t tell them and they’ll annoy the fuck out of me until i do, and they’ll make me feel better because i reallly like them and i’m bad at explaining things.
