"Look, I don't expect you to understand," she murmured, looking him straight in the eye.
Her hand absentmindedly wandered to her hair, twisting it self-consciously. The amber locks sprung back as soon as she loosened her grip. If only all her problems were untangled that easily.
"Nor do I expect you to even talk to me." Surely enough, he remained silent, as often was the case during these encounters. “Please, just listen."
She fidgeted with her converse a little longer, swirling the marshy mud around with her heels until the white rubber was barely distinguishable from the dirt below.
"I just feel alone sometimes, because nobody will listen." Her hazel eyes had glazed over lost to the call of the lake that stretched out before them. So serene; peaceful. The only thing that dared whip at it was the unruly power of the wind. Sometimes, she wished she could just drift out into it and never come back. The only thing that grounded her was these shoes, so stuck in the mud she couldn’t budge. "You do, I mean, I wish everyone else would."
"I feel . . . disconnected." A rare occurrence happened, a smirk dared to dance across her features. “You don't have to worry about that. You're lucky."
She wasn't sure if he did actually listen to her, but every so often, she thought she spotted something that could be passed off as a nod, as though he were urging her on. He refused to look at her though, if he could help it. His eyes were busied elsewhere.
"It's not even like I feel empty anymore. Just anger. Anger and more anger."
She paused.
"It never ends."
Taskless hands pulled at the grass, creating patches along the shoreline identical to those of past visits. She has left her mark on this place, just as it had on her.
“It’s who I am now.” And it was.
“It drives everyone away.” A foul taste entered her mouth, hoping it would vanish as she spat the words out.
"I drive everyone away," she corrected herself. The rage that she was composed off began to build up now, like a volcano ready to explode. Even so, her tone remained even, not wanting to betray it to her conversational partner. "My mum, dad, anyone I ever dared to call my friend."
"I'd drive you away too, you know." For a moment, she thought of unleashing that rage, just to prove that she could. As usual, something held her back though. He already knew her too well. "If I could . . ."
"But it won't work will it? I have something you need, so you’ll keep coming back.”
"Is this what friendship is?" she mused, knotting and unknotting her fingers together. The dampness of the ground she was sitting upon soaked into her bones, as though it was a pitiful attempt to keep her grounded. “Holding onto each other, because we each have something other
"Even if it was I can't even consider you a friend though, can I?" She didn’t meet his gaze, afraid she would wander upon misplaced sadness or perhaps even anger?
"After all, you are just a duck," she murmured. With a lazy throw, she relinquished ownership of the remaining bread to her companion, a reward for his time and the rent for his ear. A swift flick of her hand was all it took to dust the crumbs from her lap. She heaved herself up and tried to get on with her life, the duck got on with his own.
Moral of the story: Don't feed bread to ducks.
They'll stamp on your heart and are only in it for the bread. Which they will eat anyway.
