I was thinking about this girl, and it occurred to me that I didn't really know her at all. Of course, I knew her, but not in that meaningful way. I knew her habits and her likes and dislikes, but know? I didn't know. I didn't know her hopes and fears, her ambitions and hinderances. I didn't really know her.
But what made things so convincing was how well I knew about her. It's strange how well you can appreciate the trappings of a person, but not the inner apparatus. It's like a building you pass by every day, but never look inside. And that's what made things so... difficult in the end. I knew too much about this girl.
So well known that when she rejected me, I couldn't understand why. I mean, other girls have rejected me, and I've had varying responses, but confusion was a new sensation. Because I thought that I understood her. I thought that she made sense to me, deeply.
But did I really know her? Not really. I just knew the shell. And I'm not bitter, no sir. That's life. Sometimes it's crumbs, and I can't really complain, because I never came out of my shell either.