mixed feelings // dreamnotfound

Part 15: Hot

Wednesday, December 15th

We had laid there in silence, hearts racing, until Sapnap finally called us upstairs.

Since George didn't have anything to play on, Sapnap offered for him to sit in his room and watch as he 'kicked my ass'.

We played for a while, but the kiss stayed in my mind the entire time. Distracted me.

We ate leftovers for dinner quite silently, before finally deciding to go to sleep.

Sapnap said that he'd figure out what to do tomorrow, so we said goodnight.

I quickly put food in Patches' bowl before we all went to our separate rooms.

George and I wave to each other lightly, his door being almost across from mine.

I enter my room and close the door.

I walk over to my desk immediately, and pull out the notebook that I'd written in just a few days prior.

I know more about him now, what I want us to be, and part of me wonders if maybe he wants something similar.

Why does he have mixed feelings?

The thought sits in my mind, and I consider it.

He never told me.

I sit on my chair, and grab a pen from inside a drawer.

I flip to the next blank page in my notebook, seeing remains of the one I had ripped out.

A sudden feeling of guilt rises in me, and I quickly walk over to my trash can.

I dig through some of the stuff, finding a few crumpled up pieces of paper.

I look through all of them, before finally coming across the one I'm looking for.

I unfold it and walk back to my notebook, placing it where it had been before I ripped it out.

I sit down and pick my pen back up.

I scan down the page, before continuing what I had written before.

I let my thoughts take over as I write.

---

I check the time on the microwave.

11:33 P.M.

I take a deep breath, leaning on the counter.

My hands shake as I look back forward and stare out of the window.

Breathe.

My jaw tightens.

I try to ignore the cuts on my arm, a constant reminder of the whole world.

I push myself off the counter and open the fridge.

I take out a bottle of beer, two, three, four, five.

I place them on the table and bury my head in my hands, trying to ignore my thoughts.

I feel numb.

I want to feel happy, angry, sad, anything.

Just something, please.

George is trying to help me, I know he is.

I want to stop, even just for him if that's what it takes, but every part of me just feels alone and lost.

I've noticed in the past few weeks that he's the only person that's brought me peace of mind in years.

Made me think about something else for a second.