insomniac || j.d.

josh

I can't focus. My mind is muddled with jumbled algorithms and twisted numbers. Her presence haunts me.

The ghost of her music wrings out my brain of any intelligence and leaves my mind like jelly. She has long since stopped playing, but I can still hear the piano. Key after key until my thoughts are drunk on the sound. I want to focus, but I can't.

I'm halfway through failing college when I hear a sniffle- the only sound I've heard from her besides breathing since she played.

I dare myself not to look. I'm here to watch her sleep, and nothing else. I am not emotional support, I am not a talk group or a therapist. I'm an intern.

My ears don't care what I am and what I'm not, because even after convincing myself not to look at her, she sniffles again. The sound she makes is so quiet, so faint. She's trying to hide it and she's doing a hell of a good job. I wouldn't of heard a thing if my brain was where it was supposed to be.

I dare myself not to look as she sets something on her nightstand and pulls her covers over her shaking body. With all that I am, I try to ignore her. It's when she speaks that the pen falls from my fingers. Her voice is something I didn't want to get attached to.

Damnit, I didn't want to look at her. I didn't want to listen to her. I didn't want to care. But as her candy floss voice met my ears I dropped all my morals and cocked my head in her direction.

All she said was "Goodnight Josh" so why couldn't I reply? I hardly knew this mystery of a person. My hair falls over my eyes, yet I continue to stare. Her eyelids lower to meet her bottom lashes and a shaky breath escapes her lips.

Her head is settled gently against the mundane pillow cover. The light oak colored hair that once rested by her shoulder blades is now spilled across the case. An overwhelming urge washes over me and for some reason I want to run my fingers through it. I knew I couldn't- and I wouldn't. Not now, not ever. This was my job and I was to treat our relationship as it was supposed to treated- professionally. I internally scoffed. I didn't want a relationship with her anyways. Not even a friendship. She was merely an acquaintance and that's all she'd ever be. With one last glance at her tired features I gave her the most distancing answer I could form. Her eyes flickered open to meet mine and I was utterly stuck. An unavoidable lump gathered in my throat.

The room once tinted a dull grey now took on a light shade of green because of the color in her eyes. My neck snapped forward quickly and I deadpanned.

I didn't want anything to do with her.