Sanctuary [Poetry]

xv

"How do you kill boredom?"

She looked so obviously uninterested that I thought it's just a question for herself but was proven wrong when she raised her head, her eyes peeking at me. I stopped myself from the urge to feel my chest, to check if there's the usual beats that annoys the hell out of me.

I pretended to look like I didn't care, managing to look down, and resumed jotting down my ideas that I don't want to forget. "Do something to entertain yourself?"

I peeked beneath my eyelashes and caught her staring still. I cleared my throat, embarrassed, that she might notice. I rolled my eyes out of an old habit. I can't help but do it whenever I feel like I'm going to burst.

"Ah, hah..." she hummed. I felt the motion when she leaned forward, propping her elbows to take a better look of what I'm doing. "Does writing kills your boredom?"

"I guess so," I answered gently. I chewed on my lower lip. Darn it. My hands were trembling with the proximity between us. I tried to act normal. "You taught me to write, Ala."

"And I got bored with writing, Shen," she breathed. "Depression is easy."

"It isn't," I opposed. I looked at her with my wrinkled forehead and connecting brows. "Don't take lightly of it."

"I am not. In fact, I am envious of it." she told me. How she managed to sound so genuine, I don't know. She played with her hair, twisting it around her finger, and then gliding it down ever so smooth. Her eyes looked so painfully plain and beautiful, staring at me blankly. My reflection looked so common in those orbs. "Diminished interest towards things is one of its symptoms. Deep feeling of worthlessness. Grave sadness. Depression is a feeling inclining to the negative spectrum of emotions. Can you see?" She asked with a grin. "I don't have any interest to live but I don't feel worthless nor sad. I'm neither of the spectrum. Nothing excites me nor anything has given me the thrill to focus on certain things that people find entertaining nor worth to be spent the time for."

"Maybe you're a late bloomer." I tried to give  reason.

"Very immature." She rolled her eyes jokingly. She then extended her arm, reaching out to my hair, fixing its strands. I gulped, and prayed for her not to notice.

"How do you say so?"

"I just know."

"Dumb," I sighed. I closed my notebook and bowed my head. I felt her hand on the top of my head, petting me like a kid. "You are stupid."

"Probably," She chuckled. "For being bored."

/2019May29