Dear Vienna

Chapter One

I sit up in my bed, restless. I mean, I'm always restless. A curse? Maybe. But what have I done? Tomorrow is Monday, another day of hell. I glance at my watch. Only 3:24 a.m. I don't want sleep. I really don't, but I do know that I need it. Frustrated, I use my fingers to shut my eyelids. My eyes are dry, but I just can't "drift off" like most people can. My name is Clementine. I am 14 years old, and I suffer..not suffer..I enjoy insomnia. Why enjoy? Because I like spending nights thinking. The world lacks thinkers, philosophers, people who don't spend all their time trying to be popular and have friends in school. Maybe it's because they need friends to be happy, but I'm lonely, I suppose, though I don't feel the loneliness often. Maybe they want friends because they don't want to think about being lonely.

I truly make no sense.

My mind knows everything, but it's so hard to.. put it into words. I want to put it into words.

3:30.

Six minutes have passed, and I'm still in the same position on my bedroom floor. My body feels exhausted, but my mind is sparking up with energy. Again.

I decide to take a walk.

Putting on my red sweater, I reach to my drawing desk and pick up a handful of leftover Easter jellybeans. You know, in case I get locked out of the house and need something to keep me from starving to death. Wouldn't want to miss tomorrow, would I...? Ugh.

I step outside, counting my footsteps. The street lights illuminate the foggy air as I take a big breath. I smell freedom.

...mixed with the smell of stale food and cigarettes coming from the alley by my house. I blow out and watch a cloud of air from outside of my numb lips. All the house lights are off. Except for one house, five away from mine. I sigh and walk towards the small house.

My red sweater itches.

I arrive and peer into one of the windows. Lord, I'm such a stalker. A giggle escapes my lips, and I'm pretty sure that whoever's in that house thinks I am drunk or something. I walk closer to the house, and look deeper inside, so close to the window that my nose barely touches the warm glass. I feel so comfortable, that I actually do start to doze off. Until I hear something. Somebody has opened the door to the house, and I'm pretty sure I just had a heart attack. Instincts. I turn around to run away, but a soft hand touches my shoulder. "Hi," a medium pitched male voice says, and I cringe. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I slowly turn around, my eyes squeezed shut. No. No. Nooooo. He's standing in front of me, and I am not opening my eyes. Nope. Never. I cannot afford to be humiliated again, although I really can't say why I care anyways.

Not going to open my eyes.

Nope.

I open my eyes.

I see a boy, my age, it seems. Soft facial features, just like his hand, and a crooked smile. His hair is dark brown, and I recognize him vaguely from school. But he must be somebody who hides most of the time. Like..me. He stares at me, probably with the same thoughts that I'm having. Along with 'Who the hell is this person and what the hell is she doing looking in my windows at four o'clock in the morning?'