Diary of a schizophrenic

Entry Six

02.10.2013

Dear Diary,

This Saturday I went to the library near my dorm. It was mildly cold out allowing me to only wear an oversized grey sweater that hugged my knuckles.

Big black letters were plastered on the beige brick building reading 'Velvetine library'. That made me think of my mom and her velvet pancakes she would make every weekend morning. They were soft and fuzzy and every piece would melt in your mouth in an instant. For a brief moment, I felt like I missed home.

The library was pretty big covering two floors and over forty aisles from romance to horror and old history maps covered in a thick layer of dust. I immediately jogged towards the poetry aisle where I grabbed one of my favorite books written by Edgar Allan Poe.

As I found myself a place in a rather dark corner of the library, in the same aisle, I sat down on the floor and leaned against a book shelf. Even though it looked old -the cherry wood was quite chipped and rubbed off at some places- there was still a certain beauty hidden at the very root of it, something only someone who has experience with wood work would notice.My father owns a little wood/antique shop and I used to help him with some of his projects.

I then heard someone coming. The footsteps were very clear but not loud. The library was unusually quiet and a little scary.I felt as though I was in one of those cliche horror movies where the killer would come around the corner and stab me with a knife that's bigger than my own head. I do sometimes wonder what it feels like to be stabbed. Is the feeling comparable to your usual period cramps or is it something less painful and soul draining?

I curled my legs up to my chest and opened the book quickly placing it just under my eyes so I could see who was coming, hoping they wouldn't see me.Like that was possible in an almost empty giant building.Why the heck was I even freaking out about this (Besides the killing part of course)? I don't even know anyone here and they don't know me so the chances of someone talking to me or noticing me were degrees below zer.... or so I thought.

I recognized the person right away.It was Josh. Of course. Who else would be here on a Saturday evening?

He was, after all, majoring in comparative literature and that results in being a giant bookworm.

He was standing a few feet away from me searching for some book. he frowned giving away that he didn't manage to find it. 

At first he didn't notice me, but with my luck and stupidity, as I was trying to stand up and escape ''quietly'', covering my whole face with the god darn book, he of course heard me.

Please don't see me, please don't see me, God please, I thought so loudly it ended up being a barely there whisper.

''Keira?'' he said in a suprising tone, almost as if he didn't believe it was me. Like what the hell was I doing on a Saturday evening in a library or what the hell was I doing in a library- ever. Maybe he taught I was stupid and the same as every other girl in his class who were only there for him.I mean it's not like I was showing off my smarts by talking to someone in class and not paying attention to the most boring, suffocating and brain melting lecture. To be honest I was hoping that it would be fun. That I could thrive in my class and that the teacher would acknowledge my diverse thinking but no such luck. 

''H-hey'' I said, an almost innocent smile tugging at the curve of my lips.

''What are you doing here?'' he turned his body completely in my direction now, smilling.

Seriously?

''What does it look like I'm doing?Digging up a dead body?'' 

''I meant on a Saturday this late. Usually, newbies like to take a part of parties thrown especially for them or just regular weekend parites'' 

''Well, I'm sorry to disappoint. Parties aren't really my thing'' like at all. 

''MIne either. Reading tops drinking''

I sighed this time, looking at the carpeted floor, ''Well then let's open a late night Saturday book club called 'The killer party poetry people''.

''That actually sounds like a good idea. We already seem to be interested in the same kind of book'' , he pointed at my book.I don't allow people to adore the books I already do. I don't like sharing the things I like, especially not something as divine as books.

''You know I was just joking, right?'', I said hoping he would understand. The original plan was to make friends but isn't that like a long, complicated process of mutual awkward moments and uncomfortable silences? 

''I know but why don't we do it, it's a fun idea. Neither of us would have to spend their Saturday night alone in a library'' 

But I wasn't alone, that was the problem no one seemed to understand. I had my books and myself. Something inside of me wanted to scream and shove the cherry wood book shelf down his throat.

Think positive, making new friends and memories. Don't let your narcissistic, self-sufficient self not let yourself have friends.

I frowned, ''Fine, but I get to pick the books most of the time''.

''Most times''' he smiled.

He was sitting next to me on the floor,our shoulders grazing each other ever-so-slightly.

While we were talking I noticed that he wasn't who I expected him to be. He was actually very friendly and nice. Almost too nice. I feared he might know about my 'thing' even though my parents swore they didn't tell anyone. But why was he so nice to a stranger? 

He would turn to look at me, once in a while,and that's when I would notice his eyes. They were bluer up close and the little dark circle around the iris made them stand out.

Azure blue, I think.

His dirty blonde hair was now cut shorter, making his curls straighter, almost non-existent and he also had a beard. Well, the kind you would get after not shaving for a week or so. I don't understand the time it takes for a beard to grow and I still don't know how he managed to keep it the same attractive length.

He looked cute, very cute.

We talked a lot even after we were on our way to the dorms. He lived in the same one as I did but on a different floor. We said our goodbyes, both grinning from ear to ear. It was a friendly grin, don't you dare think it was something more. I just made another friend. Extra sassy points for this pie-eater.