I've been curious about you since I found out that you existed. Which is a really odd sentence, generally. I'm not sure why, but the discovery of another person's existence just seems odd to me. But that's precisely how it went. I heard the story, and then I got a name. The rest is history--assembled delicately from jealousy draped loosely over a frame of pure curiosity.
Because from the very beginning what I really wanted to know was why it was you, and why I wasn't good enough to be there instead. I never had any major reason to dislike you (although you certainly had many to dislike me), and so always, I was curious. And when I was particularly busy pitying myself, I let myself be jealous, because you had what I wanted most of all but couldn't get.
I walked into something when I got involved in this. I wasn't just a friend to one party, but rather a spectator to how the past played itself out anew, years later. There were factors in your interactions that I still can't fathom because I wasn't there all those years ago when everything that led to this really began. And for that, I almost hated you.
Almost, I say, because I didn't. I just hated that I wasn't you and never could be. I wanted to know as much as I could about you because it seemed like you had a magic key of sorts that put you into that position. That made you special and loved and everything I wanted to be.
We saw very different sides of the same person for a few months. I heard doubts and concerns that you were never privy to, and you saw such careful attention and certain sides of personality that I had no idea existed. And even though I knew that there were things you didn't see, I wanted so badly to trade places, which I guess eventually we did.
It was all terribly selfish, and I even knew it then. But I wanted to be you, so badly. I was so jealous, and I wanted to know why it couldn't have been me.
Then that summer we all got tangled up in a complete mess. And I'll take responsibility for starting it, because I could have just as easily put an end to it (if I'd been willing to). More than ever, I felt like I was intruding on something that wasn't mine to partake in. So I wanted to know more. I wanted to understand it because I wanted a part of what you had. We all did things we shouldn't have that summer. We all said things that probably would have been better left unsaid. And so I'll leave that there.
That explains why I cared so much then, which is the easy part. What it doesn't explain is why even now, I still want to understand you better. I want to know as much about you as a person as I can, even though you've never, in any tangible way, been a part of my life. I think, though, that I might have been able to start making sense of it a few days back.
The central reason for it all is that it defined me. That summer, and all of us who were directly involved, and everything leading up to it and trickling out of it--that, more than anything else that's happened in the past few years, is why I am the person I am today. It ultimately changed the way I interact with people, altered the way I handle emotions, and generally set my life onto a course I would not have expected.
So this fascination with you, this obsession with what exactly happened then, it all stems from my desire to understand why I turned out this way. It happened so quickly, and so emotionally, that I couldn't tell up from down in the middle of it. Looking back on it now, from this safe distance, I can analyze it to shreds and try to piece together why everything happened the way it did and how each action by each person affected who I am.
In a way, it's really an interest in who you were then. The decisions you made and the thought processes behind them. But I like people. I like knowing everything I can about them, and you've caught my attention by brushing up against my life repeatedly and significantly. And that translates into an interest in not only who you were then, but also who you were when it all started and who you are now.
This is unabashed curiosity. I want to know absolutely everything about you. I want to know how you're like me and how you're not. I want to know how you've changed since then and how you've remained the same. People, as a whole, fascinate me. And I want to know as much as I can. I want to know stories and moments, pieces and thoughts. I want to try assembling a personality from the things I learn and seeing if I can really understand the thoughts that led things to play out as they did.
I am curious. Perhaps excessively so. There are two things I can promise. One is that I will never push. And two is that I will always listen. If there are stories to be shared, I'd love to hear them. Please.
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