Weathered Love

HEALING

"Here's a simple song, won't stop the rain from coming down, or your heart from breaking..." I sang, an actually simple song by Passenger. I was surprised that some people knew the song and sang along with me.

Someone else had brought a small drum and played it next to me. It was nice to have a beat to go along with the guitar and lyrics. I played a few more songs with the help of the chords I had written down and, to wind down the night, I played a Bon Jovi song that had been helping me with my recent sadness: "Welcome to Wherever You Are".

When I got to the part that said, "Remember that you're perfect. God makes no mistakes," I had to check myself, because I was starting to get emotional and I refused to be vulnerable in front of these people, most of whom I had just met that morning and whose names I hadn't committed to memory yet.

After that, we were all told that it would be a good idea to go to bed, since the next day was going to be just as grueling, possibly even more. I went to my room, but I couldn't go to sleep. So, instead, I grabbed my notebook and walked outside. There was some patio furniture and some candles on a nearby table that I lit. They were there to ward off mosquitoes, but I needed them moreso for light.

"Insomnia?" I heard someone ask after I had gotten into my entry. I stopped and slammed my notebook shut to find Andrew standing far enough that he couldn't have possibly read what I was writing unless he had some sort of super bionic vision.

"Something like that," I stated. He took the seat next to me.

"I just wanted some air," he explained.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," I assured him. He had yet another baseball hat on. I found myself wondering if his suitcase consisted mostly of the hats.

"You're staring," Andrew smiled, looking at me through the corner of his eye.

I felt my cheeks flush and I looked away. "I was just looking at your hat," I commented.

"I do wear them a lot," he admitted.

"We all have our quirks," I excused, not thinking there was more to the hat wearing.

"You're really not curious if there's a different reason why I wear them?" he asked, surprised.

"Should I be?" I inquired, feeling a little insecure in my lack of curiosity.

"I don't think so, you're just not as prying as I'm used to," Andrew commented.

"You need to hang out with more private people then," I noted. "The more private the person, the less likely they are to pry into your life for two reasons: one, they don't want you to reciprocate and pry into their life, and two, they usually have enough secrets as it is, so adding your secret to their library probably isn't something they're too eager to do."

"You have yourself all figured out, don't you," Andrew smiled.

"Hardly. I'm just really good at seeming put together," I admitted. I wasn't sure why I admitted it, but I hoped Andrew would take it as more of a joke than a serious admission.

"So, I assume you won't share with me what you were writing," Andrew noted.

"Nothing interesting. Just journaling about everything that happened today, and how I feel about it," I vaguely informed him.

"And yet, you were so afraid of someone reading it, you quickly closed the book as soon as I said something," Andrew pointed out.

"Well, like I said, I was noting how I felt about the day. If I want you to know how I feel, I'll tell you," I explained.