reconsider

her;

her;

we were supposed to be sleeping.

i was tired. he was tired. the day had worn us out—first the funeral, then the police station. i wasn’t sure if he was awake or not, but the silence was eating me, and so, as i usually do, i started to sing. softly. my melodies were whispers.

did i say the silence was eating me? no, it wasn’t the soundless type of silence you were probably thinking of. it was an emotional sort of silence. he rarely shows his true feelings, but today, for the first time, i saw him.

i saw and felt every piece of grief and confusion and anger and right now—love. at least, that’s what i hope. he… i don’t know. i really don’t know what i’m doing, this close to him. i don’t know. so i sang. i think he was already sleeping. i think,  i think i might be falling for him.

thank god he’s not conscious at the moment. i would have done something really stupid—like kiss him. i’m not anyone significant. i dare say i’m an inconsequential burden to my parents and friends, but i like to fool myself into thinking i could heal this boy, and he could alleviate my own sorrows—if he saw them.

but i don’t think he’d ever see me the way i see him.

>>> an; could've been greater... dw it gets better [i hope] soon.