A witness to everything that goes on around me, I'm more than focused on things most people tend to avoid seeing. Such as how someone may speak using only the side of their mouth or the way they use their hands when stirring something; I notice just about everything. Looking at life through a critical eye can make things a little confusing and jumbled together, but the thrill is to sort it all out. It's like one big puzzle to remember how one person may do one thing and I'd like to know why. Was it just the way they were taught? Did they have trouble learning it as a toddler? Were they left handed? Did they get in an accident and if so, what kind? I like to learn about people.

I also like to hear their story and how they tell it. Everyone's got a different way of it, so I'd like to hear yours. Tell it to me how it begs to be told. Use your hands, talk out of the side of your mouth, fiddle with the hem of your shirt when things get hard to talk about, avoid eye contact when the details get fuzzy; just say it. It never really mattered to me how a story was written, just the reason it was. There's always a different story for everyone and always a thousand different ways to tell it. I know I wouldn't tell it the same way you would and you the next person. My eyes would move differently than yours, my hands would be everywhere, my legs wouldn't stop bouncing, and my face would light up when things got intense. I tell stories like a nervous squirrel. You may be calm, cool, and collected. I want to find out.

Another thing that interests me is exactly what you're thinking when you aren't speaking what's on your mind. I enjoy learning about your feelings, your thoughts on the subject at hand, and your discomforts. I want to know what intrigues you, what displeases you, what turns your stomach, and what brings memories to the surface.

Fear is another thing I like to talk about simply because I fear fear itself. Silly, isn't it? I have an odd combination of fears. Roaches, anything with wings with the exception of birds, fire, drowning, seeing people die, being unsatisfying, closure, being alone at night, and 3:00 in the morning. Silly little things that my childhood has instilled scary things in. Roaches because I've come across enough to have an intense fear for them. Fire because the disfiguration of other people has always been something I can barely bear to look at. Just the thought of ever going through something like that is enough to cause me scarring. Winged creatures because most of them don't bother to notice where they're going, so they just fly around and land where they please. And having a bug on me is just a terrible thought. Drowning simply is a fear because oxygen is something we need and I don't like to be without the necessities. Seeing people die is a comfort thing. I don't like change. And having them there one minute, but gone the next is a scary thought. Being unsatisfying is another childhood thing I was instilled with. I was taught to basically be my own person and do what I felt needed to be done, and I always felt like people needed to like me. I'm terrified of being alone.  Closure is scary because once you have it, whatever was there is gone now. It's finished. Being alone at night for obvious reasons. And 3:00 in the morning simply for the fact that it's the "witching hour" and I've always been very spiritual. I don't like the idea of there being someone there. It's unnerving. I have a fascination with peoples' fears. Everyone has them, they just don't like to talk about them. I do.

I guess you could say people, in general, fascinate me. Their way of life, thinking, and thriving is interesting to me. I'd love to be able to learn more about you whether I've known you for long or not. Once I've met you, I'm interested automatically. 

I wrote a short little drabble type thing about Johnny Depp and a made up character (whose name is never mentioned cause I fail at naming characters) and decided it would make a good first entry for my livejournal account. Probably doing this totally noobishly, but hey, everyone starts out as a noob.

So here goes nothing:

Gimpy

 My body, which had been succumbed in a deep sleep and curled tightly into the fetal position on my four-poster bed, shook suddenly, ultimately waking me up. Opening my eyes in annoyance, I realized the thick blanket I covered with at night was balled up at the foot of the bed and my partner was nowhere to be found.  Sighing, I angrily grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to my chin, resuming my previous position.

My attempts at falling asleep failed miserably without the warmth of the extra body usually cuddled next to me, so I wrapped my covers around me and stood, ready to pad my way down the hall to the kitchen. When I went to take a step, however, the damned blanket snuck under my foot and I ended up landing face first onto the tile floor below. Groaning in pain, I gagged at the metallic taste of blood lingering in my mouth and stood once again, but deciding it best to leave the blanket behind, no matter how bloody freezing the house was. While on my way down the hall, I brought my hand up to my throbbing nose and discovered the source of the blood. Making a detour into the hall bathroom, I scoffed at the sheer stupidity of the situation. What was I going to tell Johnny?

“Oh, I fell trying to wrap the blanket around me so I could try to come find you because I couldn’t fall back asleep after waking up because I was cold.”

Oh yes, such a romantic explanation.

I cleaned myself up and continued my exploration to find Johnny. The light in the kitchen was off, as it was when we went to sleep that night, but the patio light was on. So, without turning the kitchen light on, I attempted to make my way through the French doors that led to the back patio. My plan backfired, however, when one of our bar stools jumped out at me and collided viciously with my second toe, raising tears to my eyes and a silent scream to escape my lips.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit that fucking hurt,” I ached, my exclamation coming out louder than I anticipated.

The doors opened, and in stepped my loving boyfriend who left me with an empty bed, uncovered and open to the harsh air-conditioning system I paid good money for with a look of confusion on his face and a glass of wine in his right hand.

“What are you doing up?” he asked dumbly.

“I decided to go for a late-night stroll in search of the dashingly handsome man I had in my bed prier to my awakening and fell ungracefully which led to my nose’s demise. Then, when I arrived to our lovely kitchen, our god damned stool ran into my toe, which I do believe I’ve broken as well. Next time you decide to go star-gazing, lover, please just do me a favor and cover me back up before you leave,” I responded, wincing in agonizing pain every so often.

I heard a soft chuckle escape his lips before he turned to switch the light to the patio off. “Sorry. You were sweating before I left.”

His arms soon found their way around my waist and his lips connected with my neck, nipping softly.

“How much of that wine have you had?” I asked, my eyes closing gently.

“Enough,” he answered simply.

A yawn escaped my lips when he untangled himself from me and took my hand, leading me through our kitchen.

“I’ll protect you from the dangers of our house this time, love,” he said, the grin he wore on his lips audible.

“Oh, how sweet of you, my knight in shining armor,” I responded dryly.

We managed to get back into our bed without anymore collisions with hard stuffs in the house and found ourselves once again cuddled together like leeches to skin.

“I love you,” he murmured, stroking my hair softly.

“Even though I fall and stub my toes?” I asked, stifling a yawn.

“Of course, Gimpy.”

FIN.

Meh. It's 2:30 in the morn, and I'm exhausted. Should have probably gotten sleep instead of writing this, considering I have to wake up at 8:00, but inspiration doesn't come often, and I embrace it when it does.