'It's getting dark, darling. Too dark to see.'
he had lost count of the number of times he had glanced at his watch in the past hour. since his arrival at the field, he had not seen a glimpse of the girl who had recently started providing him with company, which was something he required more often that he liked to admit.
the silence that he had grown so accustomed to during his life, started settling down around him, but he did not welcome its presence this time.
silence usually meant no questions about his future, no barbed comments about how useless his dreams were and no jokes based on his weakness that he would have to laugh at.
it had become his savior, the rope thrown to him so wouldn't drown in the voices, the fire that kept him from freezing because of the wintry attitudes of his loved ones, the drop of water that stopped his mind from becoming a desert and letting flowers grow instead.
but now, silence meant not hearing her surprised laugh or her pessimistic comments that were meant to deny the existence of hope inside her or the concern in her voice when she saw him sitting in the open field every night.
he winced at the thought of making her worry about his "insomnia". he wished he could tell her the truth, but for once in his life, he wanted someone to look at him like he was whole. he didn't want her to start treating him differently once she learned about the reason for his strange behaviour.
he also liked the idea of having a friend who didn't pity him. he hated seeing the pity in the eyes of his friends when he told them that he couldn't accompany them on yet another outing. it made him wonder if they were friends with him for who he was, or because they were trying to avoid the guilt they would feel if they told him they were tired of dealing with him.
sometimes, he wished that he could let his some thoughts free to fly in the wind and enter the minds of people around him, so they could finally, see the world the way he did.
maybe he was naïve and overly optimistic, but if people just tried to understand each other, the world would be a better place. a place where he wouldn't feel the need to take refuge under a dark night sky.
the stars that had seemed so bright a few days ago, refused to provide enough light to read the book he had brought with him. he used the light from his cell-phone (one of the few advantages of having bought the device) to read the scribbled sentences in front of him.
he grabbed a pen with his left hand, pulled the cap off with his teeth and proceeded to scratch out a huge paragraph on the page.
for a writer, he always seemed so uncertain with his words. maybe it was because he was afraid of how much of himself they revealed. he put every last bit of his soul into his writing. he wrote like the words had slipped out of his grasp and fallen on to the paper before he could close his arms over them.
maybe he was afraid that eventually, when someone would read the book, they would realize he really was not worth their time, not at all.
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Sooo long since I updated this. Not sure if I'm entirely happy with it. Anyway, tell me what you think!
