i notice everything, its something i just do
i am the kind of person who watches, notices, and studies
i'm sitting here in the library where he happens to be as well
i noticed the little things as he read
he sat relaxed almost hunched over the book leaning into the words
he studied the book intently unaware of the world
he sat there bent over the book intrigued by the text in front of him
how he ran his hand over his forehead subconsciously
how he taped his feet gently on the floor in a little pattern
how he held the book with his right hand reaching his left hand over to the bottom right of the page in preparation to turn the page
i noticed all this from him simply reading a book
all my thoughts and noticing was small, strange only when pointed out in all of their individual states
i could not draw, merely paint pictures with my words
and my words reminded me of a thick shallow sappy prick of a girl fawning over some boy.
i hated to think that i could be compared to this
i was not, i was smart, and individual, just one who noticed things about another person.
it was strange, i didnt like noticing these things, didnt want to
but my eyes where so often drawn over to him
why?
i could only question myself with no hope of an answer
i was unaware that so many small details could be noticed.
yet here i was, noticing all of them
YOU ARE READING
philophobia
Teen Fictiona girl who fears falling in love, she doesn't want to, she spends her time at college working on her dance major. She is one who loves to dance and has a story to tell through the music. but what happens when her moves dont align with the music? whe...
