But I Can't Lose Her

faith, trust - 36

and a little bit of pixie dust - peter pan

I sigh, typing a few more words on the computer before double checking it and hitting submit.

Although I should fear my work is going to be crappy because it's a product of no sleep at 11:46 PM, I can't do anything else. Nothing has made me relax, and I don't see the point in wasting my energy just sitting around. 

Sitting around would also involve thinking, and thinking would involve hurting. Hurting may lead to crying, and it's a whole list of things I don't feel like going through tonight. I'll save my brokenness for another time. 

I check my phone again, like I have been every few minutes for the past hour. I told myself if I'm not asleep by midnight I'm taking another melatonin and forcing myself to pass out. Even though I don't have school tomorrow because of Labor Day, I still need to keep a schedule.

I sigh when I see it's only been a minute since I last checked, and look down at the wallpaper. It's been changed since school started, now a picture of me and Harper skipping down the halls on a brain-break that someone sent me last week. It's probably our best candid yet. 

I smile to myself, knowing that we're probably too close of best friends. We've done basically everything minus seeing each other naked. Although we almost did go skinny-dipping last summer at the lake.

But, we do know that we need space. As close as we are, hanging out every day and sleeping over every night gets tiring. Boring. Too much. You need a change in routine every once in a while. And being alone is what I've been leaning towards more since the other night. 

But that's not even the full reason why we're not hanging out tonight. She also has an interview tomorrow for a garden job, and she claims that I kick too hard for her 'beauty sleep'. A part of me wanted to 'accidentally' fall asleep in her bed earlier just to piss her off, but I also know she needs this job.

I feel bad for Harper, she's always had a problem with keeping jobs. It's not her working style, it's always the places she goes to work. They find other employees, they're downsizing, whatever the reason may be. I was lucky with Bridge Farm these past few years, even not being there all summer, Tilly says I still have a job. 

I click over to my log tab on my Chromebook, remembering I need to update my hours. After I quickly type them in, I move over to my creative writing work. There are three unique prompts I need to write, and of course everything I'm thinking of right now is romance. 

I don't mean to, but I can't stop when my brain has an idea. So I just type away, pausing every few sentences to go over it. I only edit a few things, but in a few minutes, I have a good prompt proposal and now I only need two more. 

This one will probably not be the one I end up picking for my story, since there's too many unknowns. Part of me wants to make up another side to the story, but then I'm concocting again and-

What the hell was that? I slowly turn my head to the left, where I hear something hit the side of the house by my window. It's not supposed to be windy tonight, so the tree wouldn't move like that. Besides the branch is just a few inches shy of being long enough to hit the house. 

So that means that it's someone. My heart's racing in my chest as I sit, paralyzed on my bed, waiting. I don't know what I'm exactly waiting for, maybe for a burglar or murderer to jump up yelling surprise!  

I look around for any weapons, only seeing my old field hockey stick. It's near the window closest to me, but what if the killer has friends that went to each window. I take my chances and slide onto the floor, picking up the stick and army crawling back to my bed.