An Oversimplification of Her Beauty Page #6
that you are dating
in Union Square?
Well, he must be
very lucky, 'cause
I'm in Union Square right now,
and I'm here pretty often,
and I never see
anybody like you.
'cause she looks amazing,
but, alas, there are
"too many in the wolf pack" as they say.
Anyhow, on to the chase.
I am writing this letter
to tell you that I have e
to be in love with you.
And before, you know,
you were in a relationshp and everything,
me being in love with you was
as much a source of angst
as it was pleasure.
But now I feel...
I feel...
I feel fortunate,
the word is "fortunate"
I feel fortunate
that I love you.
And it's a relief because
I don't have to worry abt
things that
I used to worry about.
Things like sucking
on your lip too long,
or being at your houe
certain times of nig.
I have a new freedom, I guess.
It's a new
and welcoming freedom.
And freedom even at
powerfully sensual and exciting.
Do you remember that day we were at
the lounge by your old apartment?
And we were talking
about high school,
and high school intimacy,
and whatnot?
And how there are these little
things that our age has
rendered no longer excit.
You remember that?
Anyway, I was thinking ty
about the rare occasions
kiss a girl in high school,
and how back then you knw
that kissing was as intimate as
it was gonna get that night.
So kissing was more epic,
it was narrative.
Like at the beginning,
you're all scared,
so you peck around the rs of each
other's lips and breathe all heavy,
and it's...
me that people have a taste.
It's actually a kind of scary thought
because if you taste a certain w,
then that means there has o be some
sort of predator out there craving you.
I digress.
But the tasting is le
their taste lingers
on your tongue. Anyway,
all that to say,
I am going to kiss you like that.
You know how at the end of
letters people always write,
"Love," then comma,
then their name?
I don't like that
'cause when you use the phrase, "Love
"comma Terence,"
who would really know what kind
of love I'd be talking about?
Anyway, I'm gonna replace
the standard "Love" salutation with my
well-thought-out definition of love,
just to make
my message more exact.
An art form slightly removed
from its intended context,
Terence.
Terence, how is it that you
have come to like so much this girl
that sits atop your bed
at night,
just sipping beer, fighting the
fatigue of really hot summer nights
as her complaints trail y
into soft sighs?
As an astute observer of life,
I always find it a slighy
odd yet intriguing idea
that a man's heart
can be warmed by my presen.
Self-hate or pure inquisition?
I may never be sure of the
source of my disbelief.
Actually, I find
I hold my disbelief so strong that
sometimes I subconsciously reject
the love beams
that are cast at me.
It's like an invisible shield.
If I can't imagine why,
then just maybe
it doesn't really exist.
And if it doesn't exist then,
well, I don't really have
to do anything about it.
If friendship were measured in
how much a person understands
and accepts another,
then would that make you my best friend?
I know, I know, it's the word that
every guy hates and runs from.
"Friend." Ooh! What is the state
of a world that runs from friends?
But
lost you in my world.
Follow the bright lights
down the tunnel,
up to the seventh floor.
Now, there.
Terence.
I know you eagerly await
my response,
so here it is.
Because I love the electrodes
that dance around your brain
and your relentless friendship
and understanding hands,
I will tell you.
As I come to know and
love myself, so will I you.
I am that I am, and one day,
I may love you, too.
Emotional memory is your memory
of how you felt as opposed
to what happened.
You have been making this movie
on and off for three years.
You no longer live in the same city,
or know the same people.
You value different
things in life now.
You know that she has
forgotten how she felt about you.
The memory of the touch of your
lips has faded from her mind.
You are to her a regrettable sin,
seldom enjoyed,
pushed away on account of the guilt.
Or, more than likely,
your relationship with her is a
memory so faint in the first plac,
it was not valuable enough to keep,
to love as you have done.
You hope it is the latter,
if anything at all.
You have been making this
movie for so long now
that you struggle to
remember what happened.
You are also starting to
forget how you felt.
Luckily, you are reminded
by the editing process,
which forces you to
look at her moving
in front of you, living often.
You think that she has not
forgotten how she felt,
but in her maturity has dismissed
her feelings toward you as juvenile.
The memory of the touch of your
lips may have faded from her mind.
You are to her a past attraction,
once enjoyed,
pushed away on account of a new,
more necessary engagement.
You have been making
the movie for so long now
that you struggle to
remember what happened.
You are also starting to
forget how you felt.
Luckily, you are reminded
by the editing process,
which forces you
to look at her
moving in front of you.
Living often.
You don't speak to her,
so you don't know what she has forgotten.
The memory of the touch
of your lips was
probably not her fondest memory
of you in the first place.
She believes you are a slae
to the wills and whims
of the mysterious
and beautiful.
And maybe you are.
You have been making
the movie for so long now
that you struggle to
remember what happened.
You are also starting to
forget how you felt.
Luckily, you are reminded
by the editing process,
which forces you to look at
Living often.
You know that she has not
forgotten how she felt.
She has long ago forced the memory of
the touch of your lips from her mind.
You are to her a healed cancer,
rightfully excised
before he metastasized.
Turn off the music.
Even though you know
that you should.
Let's recap what
Reality, part one.
First, that you are
emotionally unavailable.
Second, you are lonely, and making
the film with hr did not repair that.
Third, you cannot write
about the situation
without focusing
on the worst of it.
Fourth, you are
quite an unlucky chap.
The following adds to this list
and further explores
the nature of reality.
Is it an organism that
grows independent of you?
Is it ever-present?
Is it possible that
something that
transpires in your real life can have
less of an effect on your emotions
than something you imagine?
What is the code of reality's
inescapable and adaptable influence
on this momentary feelin?
We left off at number
four, so number five.
In reality,
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"An Oversimplification of Her Beauty" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2025. Web. 19 Jan. 2025. <https://www.scripts.com/script/an_oversimplification_of_her_beauty_2794>.
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