❝Bathroom Talks❞ m.yg x p.jm [eng trans]

7

Impatiently my fingers dropped on the desk's smooth, on some patches still very uneven, wood, before they bowed straigtly upwards, just in aim to clash with the desk again in the same order.
Again and again I repeated this event, whereby my finger tips' quiet clattering made some of my classmates turn to my direction with annoyed facial expressions begging me to stop this nerve-racking and quite concentration-disordering noise.
Unfortunately none of these signs reached their intended goal, since I was too busy with my thoughts to be able to care about the reality around me.
Solely the school bell ringing, already after some minutes according to my timing, had the ability of dragging me out of my veiled world of thought.
Realizing that I was again the last student being in the classroom I hurrying packed my stuff and escaped to the hall before my teacher could buttonhole me about my not existing attention.
A bit awkwardly I strolled through the school hallways, while the number of students was dropping steadily. Without me noticing it my steps automatically got closer to the boys bathroom and before I could realize it, I was already standing on the tiled small aisle between the basins and cabins gotten long in the tooth.
I stayed there for a while, rigidly​ eyeing the milk glass windows and the sky behind them darkening slowly. Unsurprisingly I stepped to the cabin, filled with excitement, which was the reason for my always truant trains of thought.
Suddenly big doubts began to rise inside of me and like a little chain reaction connecting everything I stopped. The mysterious person I confidently assumed as a boy despite his filigrane vocabulary might have replied to me once - but what's making me so sure it wasn't about a student's joke or rather boredom, who has additionally perfect skills of imitating others' handwritings?
Also the likelihood of getting a reply after just one day was too small. But my curiosity climbed again above my imagination's limits and hardly two seconds later I found myself bowing over the implied restroom cabin, looking for a new part of our puzzle-like conversation.
And indeed, just like the last time my reply had been erased neatly and a following answer written over it. Apparently, the person really wanted to remain our conversation written down as a secret.
I was only agreeing to this, I doubted that most of the students, no matter wether male or female, would be able to comprehend something like that approximately.
After all, it was about reading between the lines clearly made by human hands and exploring the hidden thoughts and hardships created of a human soul.What a pity no one, one exception excluded though, would ever dare to get behind the obviousness, while the fear of self-sufficient and independent way of thinking is on his tail.
I, on the other hand, saw things between the lines way too often, which were rewritten for others'eyes or were even invisible.
I let my mind wander for some seconds, before I carefully gathered my thoughts back and banished them in my mind's depths, so I could untroubledly focus again on the message meant for me.
Prior, I locked the door, in case someone would come here despite the last lesson's ending has already occured for some minutes.

The existence doesn't matter anymore as soon as you've lost the overview about your own losses.

I blinked some times before I dragged the read into my mind. Does that mean the person had lost the belief in a true and honest smile's existence because of having too many losses?
Thoughtful I bit my lip, he/she wasn't making it easy for me.
After some seconds of supremely concentrated thinking I recovered the words, which have been haunted in my mind since my first encounter with that person in terms of a poetically seeming text. I admit, it was a bit bold and probably way too premature, but the strong will of finding this person's luck and to bring it back to its legitimate owner has come over me.
When I heard steps, I fastly got my pencil being in my backpack's furtherst pocket and began to write:

Show me what had make you lose your belief and I'm gonna retrieve it.

Fastly I put the pencil back into my backpack. The doorlock's clicking was the only audible noise, just like my footsteps shuffling on the floor.
This weakly interrupted silence found a sudden end though, when my phone's ringing was cutting through it.
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obviously no one reads it ;-;
...
EDIT [20180407]: oKAY there are actually people reading it, yall convinced me :D i admit i was an ungrateful bish back then smh
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