ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴘᴇʀɪꜱʜ

inscrutable stranger

not proof read

january 17

i sleep for two days straight after the whole week with tiana, i debate making it 3 as i lay in bed.

it's hard being so productive for a certain amount of time, it takes a toll on me and sets me behind so much. i try my best to be active, get up and do things like normal people but i can't.

i don't know why i get tired so fast.

i finally at least sit up, grabbing my phone and checking the notifications.
three messages from tiana, almost a million from my mother, and two from mrs.amy— nothing else.

i plant my feet on the floor, wiggling my toes to feel the cold ground beneath me. i imagine i'm walking on the beach sand, the crunchiness getting in between my toes.

i stand and stretch, i have made myself a task to clean my entire apartment and drive myself to the bookstore later today.

i want to be entirely productive today; normal.

walking myself down to the bathroom, i swallow multi-colored pills down my throat and lean on the sink.
my legs are decorated with tiny purple bruises, simply just from walking so much.

i can't tell whether or not this is normal to the human eye or simply normal because i'm used to it.

i don't know.
-
two hours later i'm roaming the aisle of the books store, aimlessly grabbing books and stacking them in my hands.

i'm tired and the books are weighing me down a little but i'm pushing. i think i've been in here longer than i should be but i don't want to leave.

i don't want to go home, even though i should probably get some sleep.
i sit down at a nearby table, gathering my thoughts and opening the book "it ends with us."

i may have already read this book, i think i may have already read all of the books in my hand, but i can't remember. i've been on way too much medication over the years to remember those little things.

sometimes i wonder if the many little things i've forgotten upset my consciousness, or upset the people around me.

i wonder if my mom wishes we can reminisce about when i was a child. i don't think i'd want to though, thinking of the things that "could've been" or "would've been."

i'm not actually sure what to think when people bring up "the old me." i am not sure how to handle this subject because i have not changed; therefore, i cannot technically say "the old me."

i've acknowledged this, but I haven't come up with an immediate fix. i watch as everyone develops into their own unique identities as i wither away and sink low within myself.

i can't admit that i'm embarrassed to change and that makes it even worse.

i don't realize i'm just staring at the first page of my book until someone sits across from me.

"pretty girl?"

i recognize her voice. how could i not? it's quite distinct.

i only hum, looking up as her hands reach for the books in front of me.
i can see her much more clearly than last time, her face is much more defined than i'd seen the last time i saw her. her face is decorated with freckles and her eyes are blue. so blue that it's blinding; nevertheless she's breathtaking.

"billie right," i asked, she hummed with a slight nod of her head. i don't know why i acted as id forgotten her name. i thought about billie and i's interaction. it was simple but she was sweet.

"and what's yours," billie asked.

"dawn," i say so quietly i surprise myself, she laughs at me and her smile makes my stomach flip.

it's warm and inviting and might i say her teeth are perfect.
"that's cute dawn" billie empathizes my name with a smile, i don't say anything only because billies flirting is very noticeable and it's making me just a tad bit nervous.

"wanna go for a drive," she asked as if we'd been friends for years on end.
i shrug, "too?"

"mindlessly," she said softly. i nodded, i liked the way this girl was able to be comfortable in herself; confident, as i expressed last time i saw her.

"sure" i responded, "i'd have to pay for these first."

she shakes her head "it's on me."

i take it billie may own this bookstore, or perhaps she's just offering to pay.
i smile and she does the same as we walk out to her car that i oh so love.
-
i don't what's so drawing to the emotions of strangers but as i've said before i liked to observe.
i liked to assume and fantasize and wonder.

it's so great to be able to see other's lives and how and when they deal with their emotions. do they react to their emotions immediately? solve that problem right then and now. or do they suppress every single last one until it all hits them at once?

"you're a stranger," i say to billie. she turns her head with a confused look on her face.
"yes i guess i am," her eyes run over my face ever so slowly.

"i don't want to be one though."

i shake my head, smiling as the wind blows in her black hair. it chills me and i shiver, watching the cars below us.
"cold" billie asked, taking off her hoodie before i could even respond. i take it without another word because i know she'd want me to.

i'm staring at her again but i don't think she cares because deep down i think she likes it. she's so complex, usually, i have an entire life planned out inside my head for strangers but i can't seem to make one for her.

all i have is the predictable things.

i know she'd hold the door open for every person who walked through, no matter if she was running late. i know she'd search hours for something a loved one wanted. i know she'd cry simply because she sees others crying. i know she'd buy anyone in the world flowers if she could.
all i know is she's sweet. she's confident; perfect.

and even through all of that, i cannot seem to find myself jealous of anything but her looks. i don't know why i can't be jealous of her, not that i want to be it is just that billie seems so nice that i think she'd comfort me if i said i hated her.

and usually, those are the things i'm most jealous of; the person they choose to be.

"figure me out yet, pretty girl" billie asks me, subtly pulling me towards her as the wind blows again.

i shake my head no, even though i've come to the conclusion that the thing about billie is to not figure her out.

she's too much special to try and plan her out, you'd simply have to wait and see.

"maybe," i say changing my mind, "how so," billie says.

"to 'figure you out' you'd have to simply not try—leave it be. it'd be too complex and unnecessary to make a fantasy in my head of you because you're not like everyone else."

she nods with a small smile and if it wasn't so dark i'd might even say she had a fresh coat of blush on her freckled cheeks.

"je vais tomber amoureux de toi."

"what," i asked with a laugh, billie smiles but says absolutely nothing.

1266 words