spaces | grayson dolan

𝚝𝚠𝚘

Dear Diary,
Well, it isn't raining today. It's really cloudy and windy, so it's cold. I feel like I can never catch a break. It's supposed to be summer - hot, humid, sunny. This is why I hate living here. I long to feel the warm sun beaming down on my skin. Maybe one of these days I'll see a blue sky. In other news, mom continued to hound me this morning. "Hope, go make some friends." How am I going to do that when I'm not around people? If I didn't have any friends in high school, why would I have friends now? I'm starting to overthink this college situation. I didn't want to go because what would I do? I don't have any interests. Before Hunter's accident, I thought about being a ballet dancer. That's pretty much over now. I haven't danced in almost a year, I haven't done anything in almost a year. I'm alive but I'm not living. I feel like I will never be able to function again. Hunter was my best friend, my biggest inspiration. His death pains me to even think about...

"Then why are you here?" I mutter to myself while looking up at his tombstone. Sometimes I don't even know why I waste my days sitting in this run down cemetery. I guess it's because he's done so much for me.

All my life, Hunter and I had this unbreakable bond. Usually an older brother would pick on his little sister. He did, on occasion, but it never lasted long. I admired his strength and passion for life. He was popular, energetic, athletic. I used to sit and watch his lacrosse games for hours and hours and never get sick of them.

He never got mad at me, ever. Even when I crushed on all of his friends, he didn't care. He was super laid back, super understanding. He didn't deserve the ending he got. He actually had a purpose on this earth, unlike me.

I was always the insecure one, the one with the heavy weight on my shoulders. He was Mr. Perfect, and had every right to be. I always felt like an outcast compared to him.

My eyes move back to my diary entry. I didn't mention how sad I am or how much my parents annoy me due to their lack of empathy. That's something, right?

I slowly rise from my usual spot on the ground and neatly place my diary back into my bag. "See you tomorrow, Hunt." I mutter while lifting up my bike.

Swinging my leg over the seat, I hop onto my transportation and pedal home. I think I see a tiny speck of sun peeking through the gray clouds, but it's just my sad orbs deceiving me. The ride home is usually peaceful, but today I have such an uneasy feeling.

My mind keeps drifting back to my new neighbor. Why was he staring at me last night? Well, I was staring at him before that, but I looked away. He had no shame. It was the most intense eye contact I have ever made.

I'm really antisocial and awkward around boys. That's another thing Hunter helped me with. He always taught me to be confident, to take charge and be a 'woman.' Even though he was extremely overprotective, he always wanted me to be bold around my crushes.

I wonder what he would think about window creep. He would probably tell him to stop staring at his sister from such a distance. I doubt I'll even talk to this mysterious boy, anyway. I don't want to talk to anyone at all.

The minute I turn onto my block, my eyes grow wide. My mother is across the street, talking to Linda's grandson. Not window creep, but the other one. Shit, I definitely don't want her to make a scene.

I get off the bike and try to hurry inside, but it's too late. My mother immediately catches a glimpse of my brown ponytail. Whenever I don't feel like dealing with my long locks, I throw it up into a ponytail and call it a day.

"Hope!" Her cheery voice calls out. I hate that cheery voice. Turning my body, I make eye contact with her. She's smiling and waving her hand, gesturing for me to walk over there. "Come say hello, I was just talking about you."