stranger, soulmate, lover.✔️

introduction.

If time were such a sensitive thing, why had it stopped me in that moment? That moment of which I failed to do so for myself...

Tomorrow, tomorrow was the day I was born and tomorrow was the day I dreaded the most. Mom came home late with her shoulders slump and her lips in a pout, ready to caress my cheeks and complain about her day. Tomorrow was the day my best friend died, and as you've known, nothing good comes from tomorrow.

A puddle and pool. Swimming away at my thoughts. Italy was only of noon when I'd woken up the next day, struggling in the dark like I had the other days, my little brother would come inside and ask of me to keep him company. We'd make a small homemade cake and I'd watch as he sprinkles toppings of his choice.

And we'd eat even the most bazaar of things because I love him so.

Afterwards I'd bathe him and clothed him and tuck him into sleep. And I'd turn on his nightlight instead of his lamp because he's afraid of the darkness but he can't stand the light. And when I'm done I'll sit at my windowsill and wait.

Wait to feel something like a celebration...

-

"What is love? Only the treacherous might know, for I'd been alive longer and failed to see so." I stopped listening in English class and skipped Spanish. I stopped listening because I have no need to find love or wonder what it is. Love is a delusion, a structure of which we build. Something like religion, so conflicting and profound for the soul reasoning of its existence to even be questioned at all.

It's faith, faith that one day we'll all be okay. And everyone will love one another and convert of their ways, but if religious beliefs are like love, why is the topic controversial at all? Because love is different none of it is the same, just like people, just like beliefs, and if you can't handle difference, then you know neither.

But it's all fake in the realist of ways, strong words with competent freedom and yet we hold our wheel to one belief and one only. Love is never this or that, nor is belief, and when I come to my senses of that, I begin to find peace.

I sat at lunch reading through an old essay, I went home with my little brother too, I took care of him like i alway did and I studied a bit before getting ready myself. And when I did I sat there yet again, looking out of my windowsill.

Feeling the bristling air hit at my tender skin, and once my eyes shuttered back open you appeared. A boy with fair skin and bolted eyes. Resting in the night as the dark scenery bestows of you, and I watch as you duffle with the things around you, I watch as you watch me too.

I watch as you smile.

I got up from the windowsill, I don't know why.