the observant
am the observant.
if i ever like you, i will probably become hopeless about you.
i observe you.
i observe all the tiny details. the tiny moves. the little expressions you make without realizing you’re making them. the way you talk, the way you react, the way you carry yourself.
and somewhere along the way, i start noticing how hardworking you are too. the things you do when nobody is watching. the effort you put into things without making a big deal out of it.
i don’t know why i do this.
maybe when i like someone, i just want to understand them. not in a creepy way, hahaha. i just become unnecessarily interested in the smallest things about them.
but then there’s something funny about being this observant.
when it comes to me, i often wonder
what do people observe about me?
what do they notice?
what tiny things about me stay in their head?
because i don’t think i’ve ever gotten a compliment about how i move.
or how i breathe.
hahahaha.
and maybe that’s such a strange thing to even want.
but sometimes i wonder what it would feel like to be observed the way i observe someone i like.
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because when i like someone, i don’t just like them.
i like the way they see the world.
i like the way their mind works. the things they notice. the things they find funny. the things they care about. sometimes i even start liking things simply because they like them.
and that’s probably the most dangerous part.
you start seeing someone through all these tiny details, and suddenly they become much more than the person everyone else sees.
but then i wonder
do people ever see me that way?
does anyone ever notice the tiny things i don’t think are worth noticing?
the way i move when i’m comfortable.
the way i get excited about something.
the way i look at something i’m interested in.
the little habits i don’t even know i have.
do they notice?
or am i always going to be the one noticing?
maybe that’s why i like observing people so much.
because there is something beautiful about knowing someone in all the tiny ways that nobody else bothers to look for.
and maybe, secretly, i just want someone to look at me that way too.
not just see me.
observe me.
