"My thoughts cannot move an inch without bumping into some piece of you." — A quote I found written on a newspaper on a train the other day (via floranymph)
It's cold. My bed is cold. I flop down on it and sink into my comforter. It's nice. Almost as nice as the silk feeling of your hair. I miss you sometimes, your hair. The way it'd shine and still be effortless as ever. What am I going to do when I leave you?
I've lost count of the days. If not for my notes app, I wouldn't have known what the date was. As a 13 year old, I had some wisdom and knew that if I didn't take note of every interaction I had, it would all vanish like a fleeting dream. I hated that memories passed through me like air. I wished I could just live in the happiest ones forever and never leave. They were beautiful and bright. I always liked bright things. Like an insect, I was attracted to things that shine. I guess you could say I preferred things that stood out. I also guess that was why I was immediately attracted to Oliver. Anyway since I was keeping track of the dates of the interactions, I came to know that I had about 3 days until valentine's day. I can imagine the panic going through my head. It was too cliché for me to confess during valentines, also adding to the fact that I didn't want to tell him anything without knowing his feelings. Were we that close to each other that he would acknowledge me during the one day of the year where you would appreciate your significant other? Maybe we were.
I had come to a decision. I would go out to buy the candy, but if he didn't hug me before I give it, I wouldn't give it to him and go home devastated. If that was reality, I planned to change into comfortable clothing, buy a pint of coffee ice cream, and watch a really sad, gut-wrenching movie covered in blankets and pillows. It couldn't hurt to act like a teenage girl who just got broken up with by the love of her life, right?
I didn't plan anything past that. Just kidding that was a lie. I thought maybe he would tell me something, or pull me aside to tell me. Or maybe he would whisper it to me in my ear during a hug. My mind as a teenage boy going through puberty was very frivolous, trust me.
So yes, I did go out to buy a 2lb bag of Mike and Ikes. I did somehow convince my dad to take me shopping for valentine's candy for my friends at 9pm. We ended up spending $30 on candy alone. It was thankfully successful and my dad didn't suspect anything.
Going home that night, I couldn't help but feel sort of ill. It could just be that I was thinking about Oli too much, but I didn't feel good. What if he ignored me tomorrow? I know he wouldn't do that, but he's so unpredictable sometimes. It's like the yearning for more never ends. I can't help but want to hold him, protect him, spoil him; that's just how I show people I love them. I want to love him the way I want to, but only if he would allow. If he ignored me or didn't talk to me, it'd feel like I was rejected. Not in the confession sort of way, but like pushed aside. Almost as if you're feeding your body, but your body rejects the food, and you begin to vomit it out. It feels horrible when you can't show someone you love them. I hate that feeling, but I tend to know it too well.
word count: 644
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Untouchable
Storie d'amore"The end isn't much different from the beginning." Charlie is in his 8th grade year. He's been going to this school for 9 years. So why now does he finally meet him? Oliver, whom Charlie learns to call Oli, too has just met a new friend. The questio...
