A little more credit.

If my life were music, it'd be piano music.
Soft keystrokes, loud at times, with whimsical keyboard sounds every so often.
Always keeping perfect time and steady rhythm; classical, not jazz.
Each chord seeming to make logical, perfect sense, but tinged with a growing awareness that maybe none of them do.
Steady progressions; up, then down.
You usually get what you expect, until something like this throws you.
Suddenly the music's too loud,
too soft,
too bright,
too dark,
too strange,
too scary,
too different,
and all you want to do is crush the life right out of it.
Smash the strings, burn the frame, shatter the keys.
You realize that maybe you've never understood it at all.
Maybe it's been successful in enticing you into its facade; light and airy, shallow and flushed,
Distracting you with the soft heat of a summer morning--
making you unaware of the bubbling, blistering burn.
And suddenly, for one tiny second, you really do see.
In the moment before the color leaves the flame, you expose depth and subtlety in each vibration, hushed vibrancy and shattered glass in each rhythmic chord, right before the music
stops.

Please.
Give me a little more credit.

It's personal.

Today, I interacted with the boy I like.
Then, I saw a play about a girl who falls in love.
Sometimes, I wonder what that entails.
I wonder how I'd react. I can see myself completely shutting off and running away, and at the same time I can see myself having a great time.
I guess I'll have to see.

Today, I tried to tutor a sophomore in geometry.
I met his mom, and we talked for a bit. She seemed nice, but her kid was a slacker. He just sat there in his tight jeans and Led Zeppelin shirt, arms crossed over his chest, eyes set into a fixed 'you're-not-going-to-teach-me-anything' stare.
He looked at me, a blonde senior girl in a colorful dress and heels, and probably thought I couldn't understand/relate to him whatsoever.
I looked at him and laughed, because in reality I've been exponentially more familiar with people who look the way he does than people who look the way I do.
Soon, his mom left, and we were alone. He took no initiative (typical), so I grabbed his math book and asked him to get out his notes. He said they were at home. I tried to help him, but as I pointed, sketched and explained angles and theorems and corrolaries, he just sat there, looking bored. I even told him what to write, but he just sat there.
You can't teach someone something they don't want to learn.

Now, THAT'S something I'm completely unfamiliar with.

I always want to learn.
I'm fascinated by anyone who can teach me anything.

Tell me something I don't know.

Literally.