May 26th 12:34 a.m.
Over many, many years I have come to learn lessons.
Lessons about life, people, morals, habits, love etc. etc.
I have learned that lying will only cause trouble,
I have learned that silence can be the greatest cry for help, and I have learned that past midnight is not for lovers embracing one another throughout the night, no, past midnight was for the troubled, the silent people of the world that couldn't seem to get one of the greatest wonders of the world- sleep.
Yes, past midnight was for the thoughtful, for thoughts of young red-heads with silence and dark shades and hoodies and inked napkins and secrets and mystery.
Past midnight was for her; I assume.
But past midnight was for me; also.
My insomnia raged on and my knuckles turned white from clenching a napkin that should mean absolutely nothing to me, but meant absolutely everything.
4 little neatly written words followed by 2 letters gave me reassurance that 'N' was real and fathomable.
She was not a stranger as Zayn had said, no i considered her as more now, she was a friend of past midnight that writes "Staring is not polite xx" to other strangers that stay up past midnight also and hope to one day make the mystery that is her, not so mysterious.
YOU ARE READING
Mosaics ~ N.H
FanfictionA short story about a broken actress with a hoodie and a blue-eyed writer who believes she is perfect; just the way she is. ~ Posted on my fandom Instagram {@fangirls__unite} but currently being edited because I may or may not be an unsatisfied...
