poetry ➸ hes

01

one

   I always wondered what I had done wrong to have this kind of living.

   I wasn’t given the potential to speak, yet I like to express and indicate such things. It may not be through my voice, but it could be through a mere pen and paper. Ever since I was old enough to understand that I couldn't utter a word, I made it certain that I  would be constantly around pens and papers, markers and boards, or just basically anything I could use to write and to write on. I quote; "just because I couldn't speak, doesn't mean that I don't have to", you could tell that I am quite assertive about myself somehow despite my incapability.

   It was when I was at fifth grade when I occasionally got bullied. It was fine for me to receive an abundance of criticisms because it happens, but sooner I figured out that it was very foolish of me to let them say such awful things about myself because it would only get even worst— and then it did. It had gotten more terrible than it was when I was on seventh grade. The awful attacking words suddenly became a hundred times harsh than it used to be. I merely cried myself to sleep, or put all my unwanted and agonizing emotions on the paper and write everything away.

   If you ever wonder, here I am now— a college boy. Because of so much luck and because of my hard sacrifices as well, I got accepted in New York University, taking a degree in English. Frankly, I’m now a senior and yet, I still have doubts over myself, but I’m sure I’ll get over it sooner when I graduate and officially become an English teacher.

   Dorms aren’t one of my things though. In fact, I hated it to the core. My loathing for dormitories started when I was freshman and had a masochist roommate named Niall. Well, Niall has a heart like a marshmallow. He cried every night while calling out one particular name; Allyssa. It saddens me, but I sure won’t bear the tears Niall would shed every night for a whole year.

   The first night Niall ever bawled his heart out over that Allyssa girl, it was sorrowing. Unable to bear the upsetting scene in my dorm, I wandered outside instead. Thankfully, the main library is open 24 hours a day. At first look, I thought the library would only be occupied by myself and the sleepy librarian, but when I got enough time to saunter around and search for something really interesting and entertaining to read, I sooner found out that I wasn't alone after all. There was a  girl in the poetry section, running her hands over the hundreds of books on the shelves, looking at them with great fondness, just how I stared at her with a tiny bit of adoration, too. When I finally gathered up enough sanity for myself to snap out of my trance, I walked over to find a book as well. My footsteps were loud enough for even the librarian at the entrance to hear it, but the girl doesn't seem to care.

   I was already next to her but she didn't make any indications that she took notice of my presence. Maybe she was too enraptured by the books? I would have spoken by that time if only I could, though. I uncomfortably shifted, and after what seemed like ages, she swiftly looked at me in pure shock. When she finally recovered and convinced herself that I seemed to look harmless, she gave me a shy smile.

   She waved at me, and so I waved back. Neither of us uttered a single word, we just stared at each other while uneasily shifting. It was very awkward, by the way, but she was so beautiful I could stare at her for days.

   “Sorry, I can’t hear. Did you need anything?” She mouthed while doing sign language.

   I solely shook my head with surprise and continued to pretend that I was searching for books on the shelves. I felt bad for her though, not because she can't hear, but because I hesitated to make her feel the least okay by telling her that I’m incapable of speaking, too, just like how she's incapable of hearing.

   Then I took out a thick book, a collection of Lord Byron’s poetry, blowing away the dust that covered the old and worn out book. The girl was still looking for something and she seemed to get more irritated as a second goes by.

   I wanted to help the unknown girl without approaching her. I was too shy to do so. She was holding a sole piece of paper that had the books she needs written over it. I lightly peeked over the paper and saw that she exactly needed the book I was holding by now. I tapped her shoulder lightly and she turned around faster than I thought she would. I gave her an apologetic look as an apology for startling her.

   "Is this the book you need?"

    I did the sign language, too, of course. But while doing so, my fingers were slightly shaking because I was so nervous I could pass out any moment. Scratching my neck in frustration, I slightly grimaced at myself for being the most awkward person.

   The girl nodded slowly and took the book out of my hands with a smile.

   "I’m Harry.”

   Giving me the most picturesque smile I've ever seen my whole existence— she mouthed— “I’m Savannah.”

//

   new story oops??? i kinda love this storyline bc i think it's quite unique for a fan fiction. and yes, poetry. i love poetry. and if you love this, help me to attract more readers by sending your votes and comments. btw, dedicated to chinavase bc fave <333333