Luke.
October and Michael were at work, after Bruce (or Mr. Manager Sir, maybe it was an inside joke, I don't know) decided to call them back in to take their regular shifts, which had only been cut off to half a week, thankfully.
I couldn't get the conversation I had with October out of my head, even if it occurred a few days ago. She looked wretched, and my heart ached with guilt for bringing it up, but I had to.
I didn't know why, but I felt stressed about the situation, as well. Whatever burdened her, burdened me. It was like we were the same person, and I could feel the problems weighing down on my own shoulders. This was stressful.
I was still in that zone in our relationship, where I'm trying to figure out whether I really did love her or not, and if I wanted to. I felt like an absolute dick. What kind of person is afraid to fall in love? Someone like me, that's who. Because I'm a wreck, and I can't function like a normal human being.
I felt like smoking. I need something to drink. The only time that I actually felt like I wasn't cursed with a disorder, or something. I felt normal. And I wanted to feel like that a lot. I'm going to change. For October, so I wouldn't scare her off with my needs. I felt like a freak.
I haven't written in my journal in what felt like forever. A smile made its way upon my face at the thought of that. The only time I only ever wrote in my book was when I felt troubled, and I needed to let it out. But when I was with October, those doubts seem to just fade away. And now, they're coming back.
I let out a big sigh. 'Do not fall in love with an artist,' I wrote nonchalantly on the white-ish ages. 'Because they will draw flowers in your lungs. And although they are beautiful it is so fucking hard to breathe.'
I all of a sudden felt slight anger. October, she was my cure. She was the reason why I haven't been writing for the past few months, because she was the reason why my troubles had withered. She was the flowers in my lungs, and she has replaced my veins with the stems of daisies and daffodils. She made me a better person.
But with those flowers came weeds; there were always weeds. And I felt so guilty, because of her problems, not mine. And it made me mad - because I couldn't do anything about it, no one could except her. And the more she ran away the more pain it caused her, making the weeds grow, which hurt me. And it really bothered me.
This was exactly why I never got too attached. Who knows? Maybe this was all an act, a sick bet, even. Maybe Ashton set it up along with her. Maybe, all she wanted to do was get in bed with me like what happened last time, then she'd dump me; humiliate me.
Maybe, you're overthinking, my conscience told me, but I wasn't having any of it. I know that relationships were supposed to be about "trust", but I never know what goes on in that head of hers. That beautiful mind. Maybe I was overthinking. Because if all of this were just a hoax, she wouldn't have made me feel this way, if it were fake. Damn it, October, what are you doing to me?
If I restrained myself, then the chances of her having to deal with me for a long time would lessen. I felt ashamed. I felt like an object of ridicule.
I hate myself.
I love October. I think.
I wanted to climb out, but I was already in too far.
I needed to stop getting so attached. I needed to distance myself from her, from anyone. Come to think of it, my life was much better spent sitting at home, watching TV and not picking flower petals that tickled my insides.
