When life happens

Prologue.

"I'm helpless clinging to a little bit of spine.
They rush me, telling me I'm out of time.
They shush me, walking me across a fragile line."

I find myself constantly surrounded by people, whom are alive, moving, and...mundane; Realising how small and insignificant we are in this world, always strikes me with a feeling of stasis. I'm standing still in a quiet corner, watching everyone live their lives, I know their stories by heart, and I've learnt their names and tragedies as if they were my own. I observe this people obsessively, trying to find the logic reason as to why I feel different from them.

I occasionally call myself an actress. I put on an act for everyone to see, I pretend to be just like them and make them feel like they know me. But I'm sure if they did, they'd be running scared of what lies around my head; a tangled mess of obscure, unexplainable thoughts.

I'm pinned down by the tenacious claws of the shadows that reside deep within me. They're ruthless; making me choke on my words, leaving me breathless and vulnerable to the rawness of human kind. There's no escape, I can assure you; they'll creep into pure thoughts even when a big smile is splattered in your face, trying to conceal their urges for tears and sorrow.

I've got a past I'd like to erase along with the scaring it's left me with and even so a part of me is driven to disaster...

I'm broke apart from my consuming thoughts at the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer, and instantly a shiver runs down my spine. I don't feel threatened, though. In reality, I don't feel anything but the numbness in my fingertips, caused by the freezing cold weather of Aberdeen.

I try to ignore the stranger's presence, but as if of magnetism, my gaze diverts to the mysterious owner of the footsteps. I drink in his appearance; tall, severe features and a hint of melancholy.

Ah, welcome to the club, I think.

Our eyes lock together, emerald green eyes against my cloudy gray ones, and an agreement is made. We agree to share our misery under gloomy shadows, a pact between strangers to let our demons be freed for a night.

He takes one step closer to where I'm standing, and breathes out a cloud of concealed thoughts, painting white the dark we shelter ourselves in.

"Would it bother you if I lit a cigarette?" He asks faintly, but all I can hear is the deep tone to his voice.

"Would it?" He asks once more, a cigarette already between his lips.

"Only if you're planning on not sharing one with me." I say and notice his eyes look more like silver up close. He nods and holds a cigarette for me. I take it and place it between my chapped lips just like him.

He lights mine first and then his. A fit of coughs breaks in the hushed silence of the night. He pats my back until my coughs subside.

"Guess I didn't mention I've never smoked before" I say in a whisper, my cheeks tainted a deep red.

He glances at me carefully and then takes a deep inhale of his cigarette.

"How old are you anyway?" He blows out a cloud of smoke that ends up hitting me in the face.

I swat the smoke away and then say: "I'm seventeen."

"You're quite young."

"I guess so..." I inhale for a second time the cigarette and blow it out successfully. He chuckles slightly at the satisfactory smile tugging at my lips and my eyes face the wet pavement of the street.

"You learn quickly." He says and rests his weight on the brick wall of the bridge and I mimic him.

"How old are you?" I ask after a while of silence. Not an awkward silence, however.

"Old enough." He's not facing me and I feel slightly disappointed by it. We blow out a cloud of smoke almost at the same time that then becomes one. I don't enjoy the taste of cigarette, but for some unknown reason doing this with...him, makes it better.

"That's not a real answer." I complain.

"Reality is harsh, kid." He mutters in a very serious tone.

"I'm not a kid!" I say loudly, "you're roughly 5 years older than me."

"Maybe."

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Love,
Fernie ❤️