Touch

15

She's become my addiction and she doesn't even know it.

Part of me wants her to know-wants her to feel me out there. Watching her. Checking how she dresses.

And what she eats. And who she spends her time with. Watching as she opens her bedroom curtains first thing in the morning.

And walks to school. And shops for nail polish in town.

I take not of some of her favorite things, like yogurt-covered pretzels, pale peach lip-gloss, and hooded sweatshirts with big front pockets.

And I know when she goes to bed, usually around eleven thirty, right after chatting online with I can only remember who.

That's the hard part, not knowing EVERYTHING about her, despite how hard I try.

Even when I'm up close, I can't always hear what she's saying in conversation. I can't always watch her lips, for fear she'll catch on, which would ruin everything.

I want to talk to her. And sometimes we do talk. But it's never for very long and we never say anything important.

I can't be myself around her. I can't relax or opem up, or show her all the pictures I've got tacked up on my wall.

Pictures of her at the beach, in front of her house, at the mall, and in the bakery downtown.

Lately she's been talking to everyone, even to people she never normally associates with. She's been asking them questions about something that shouldn't even matter to her.

Something she shouldn't even know about.

Luckily, she redeemed herself, though. We got really close recently. Or, should I say, I got really close to her. At first I thought it made her nervous, but then it seemed like she kind of enjoyed it.

Because she didn't back away.

I want to get close to her again. I want to see how far she'll let me go, how far I'll have to push before she has no choice but to let me in.

●●●

Like I said.

Locate your chill

~ Malum