Unbelievers

Connection

He is driving me fucking insane.
Whenever I am around him, I just can't think straight. I could be in a room with 100 other people, but the only person I see is him. When we are in the same room, this strange sensation takes over me and I can't seem to shake it. My hands shake and my heart races. My mouth becomes dry, and I find my clumsy fingers fumbling through my hair.

When it got cold in December, he wore a biker jacket, which seemed to be one size too large. It made his torso seem disproportionate to the rest of his slim figure. To me, he looked like he'd just stepped out of a movie. Some kind of 90s Johnny Depp waxwork.

Yet, when he walked down the halls, nobody even took a glance at him. He was invisible to their stares. His eyes looked deep, filled with pain. His heart was like a mixtape. Someone passes it to you in mid July, but by the winter it sits on a shelf collecting dust. He was a sad mixtape, played over and over again. You know all the words, but the tone makes it seem almost inappropriate to sing along.

She wanted to take his pain away. Eat it all up. Make it her own, so she wouldn't
have to look into those two blue pools of sadness. It drove her crazy.

She hated it. Her whole life, she always told people true love doesn't exist. Suddenly she found herself falling for a guy, and she didn't even know his name. She knew she could never love him. No one could ever love him. He couldn't even love herself.