Feeling: sleepy
Listening to: Sarah McLachlan - Vox
Reading/Watching: nothing

I seem to have a history of not wanting attention when I have it, and silently seeking it when it doesn't belong to me. It's the most retarded game of Tag.

But try explaining that to my psyche. When I was a kid, cute and bumbly with my gappy-tooth smile and fearless singing, I wanted absolutely no invasions into my backyard paradise. It was not about who was/wasn't watching. It was about far more important things, like rescuing He-Man from the grips of the evil monster.

Once I was an awkward pre-teen and people began ignoring me, I started dreaming of the day I'd be able to make everyone drop what they were doing and listen to what I had to say (and, of course once I said it, everyone would have to think it was brilliant).

Nowadays, it's like once I know I have everyone's undivided, I'm content to let it come and go. If I'm singing, I know you're going to listen. Doesn't mean I have to start singing merely to get you to listen. It's enough to know that I could, if I wanted.

If I'm sitting silently in a corner, and the waves of bubbly people pass through me like shadows, I'm much more tempted to scream "I DO EXIST, YOU KNOW."

I think some people fake up drama or injury in order to garner attention, and while I can see where it comes from, I think it's silly (or at the very least, rather young and desperate). Me, I know if I'm actually hurt, receiving attention will only make me focus too much on what hurts. If it's an imagined pain, something transitory, I tend to want to dwell on it more, to validate it (I have my moments of silly and desperate, same as everyone), but if it's real, if it's actually something that threatens to beat me, to become bigger than me, I would prefer if everyone shut up and go away so I don't have to cry in front of everybody.

...This is a rather roundabout and overdramatic way of saying what I meant: tonight, while in a big goofy pillow fight with Bri's couch pillows, mon coeur swung a pillow at my head, and while the majority of it connected, his knuckles caught a glancing blow off my cheekbone, and yes, it kinda hurt.

He instantly stopped and came over to me, and kept trying to put his arms around me and apologize. I pulled away (a bit too harshly, I think), and made up an excuse to leave the room, so I could take a moment to pull myself together. I've always known that when I'm on the verge of tears, I can choose to fight it off for a more convenient time, or let the dam break and whimper and sniffle for several minutes. When people hover and coddle, I am much more fragile, and it's embarrassing. I knew if I started to cry, he would probably feel like pond scum, and it really wasn't a big deal.

People give too much attention to tears, sometimes. It's come to a point where I feel guilty for shedding them, because I realize what sort of emotional blackmail they can be. Since I am naturally a weepy female (I cry at sad commercials, people. Movies, books, stories, you name it, I weep for it), this means I'm constantly yanking people around on my little emotional roller coaster. I'm thinking this should stop.

...Side note: today (well, yesterday, more rightly) was mon coeur's birthday. Happy Birthday and mush. (<- beware overbearing gobs of cuteness)

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