xi.
My hands threaded the stalks, intertwining the flowers to create a crown of daisies. I placed it on my head, sighing in satisfaction at both my work and the rainy weather.
I had a crown; I was a queen.
I was his queen, and his alone.
xii.
The school uniform we were obligated to wear was scratchy and uncomfortable. It made for an even more unattractive look, when paired with the clumsy shape that was my body. I pulled the skirt down over my knees and hid behind my book as he walked passed me on the bus. He didn't notice me at all.
He was, however, wearing his own scarf.
When I walked off and passed him on our way into class, I wanted to tell him that the scarf suited him.
He ran away before I got the chance.
xiii.
He didn't run, he walked. I just didn't have the courage.
xiv.
Late nights that were originally dedicated to the thoughts on my hatred for Earth became renamed as hours to think about him. To ponder him as one might ponder a book.
It was in those dark and late moments, when I would smile. Only slightly; only before I remembered that I didn't smile.
xv.
I sat by myself in class.
The hurried whispers of my classmates around me annoyed me and I could always feel their eyes on me, judging me. Disliking me. Misunderstanding me.
I didn't want to be understood, especially not by the human species. Not by a group of people who got scared of things they didn't know and destroyed things they were scared of.
No, distance was best. Distance was safe. Distance was comfortable.
It was only him who made me swallow my own words.
And he didn't take most of my classes.
xvi.
My daisy chain broke and ended up trampled on in a puddle of muddy water.
And so, the queen had fallen.
xvii.
Books were very useful to hind behind, should one ever require to be hidden.
Hiding was second hand knowledge to me. I was always hiding.
Hiding from him.
xviii.
I hid from the same thing I wanted to show off in front of.
xix.
If parting was such sweet sorrow, why did Shakespeare make the characters leave?
I hated Shakespeare.
xx.
He also hated Shakespeare; he didn't understand why Romeo and Juliet couldn't have just rebelled against their families.
Because, what he didn't realize was, Romeo and Juliet were stupid.
I really hated Shakespeare.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody, Not Even The Rain
Novela Juvenil❝I know that even with the seams stitched tightly, darling, scars will remain.❞ He was a contradiction to me; the light at the end of my pitiful tunnel. I shouldn't have loved him because I was me and I didn't love, but I did. Above everyone else, h...