Head in the Clouds // Klance

Cuts

The bus pulls up to the corner near my house. Dad is at work, so I have the house to myself for the rest of the day. I grab a snack and head to my room.

Dear diary,

Today was a lot to handle. It was hard to see him with his new friends because it makes me feel so replaceable. Like I'm worth nothing. Does he ever look back on the memories we made and miss what we had? Or does he even care?

He has to care about me a little bit. If he didn't, he wouldn't have helped me today in the bathroom, right? I'm going to go talk to him tomorrow. I don't know when, but I have to.

I put my journal next to my bed and lay down. The only thing I want to do is sleep. I'll deal with explaining my new black and blue look to my dad later.

When I awake, it must be late at night or early in the morning because it's dark outside. A look at my phone confirms the latter. At 3:22 AM I am no longer tired.

Congratulations, Keith, you've officially messed up your sleep schedule, I think to myself.

Now that I have several hours to waste, I throw on a pair of shoes, grab my phone, and sneak out the back door, careful not to wake dad. I can hear Katie's voice in the back of my mind saying, 'a midnight walk? In the middle of winter? You're going to get a cold and die!'

The moonlight reflects off the snow to cast an eerie glow on everything. It's a surprisingly clear night. The stars wink at me, and I think of the light years it took just for that light to reach my eyes. I memorize the way the darkness seems to curve over the world like a frigid blanket.

My feet guide me until I arrive at a park down the road. The big trees disguise the playground and picnic tables from the road. I sit down at one of the picnic tables, reminiscing on all the times Lance and I would sit here and just talk.

I know I should move on. I know I should forget about him. I just can't believe that after all the time we spent together, he'd throw it away.

I've never been that close to anyone as I was with Lance.

In so many ways, I'm angry. I understand that things change, and maybe I was doing something wrong, but couldn't he have handled it better?

I pluck a pinecone from the ground, stand up, and throw it at a tree, all the while yelling at the sky. After several more pinecones and more yelling, I fall to my knees in the dirt and weeds. Gingerly I touch my face where the bruise is; It hurts, but in a weird, twisted way, I like the pain.

This time, no tears come, though I feel like crying again.