~Her words were my poison. I used them to consume myself.
Disturbingly honest. Painfully strained. Carefully penned down. Dangerously addictive.~
A journal that landed in the right hands and told a whole story with words, no lips could speak.
Two...
My heart pounded against my ribcage. She knew. She knew who I was and she knew that I had it. She didn't have to return it. She could have kept it all to herself? She could have pretended like I didn't have it at all. It wasn't mine but she wanted me to have it?
The words swirled around the page, until they meant nothing. She knew. That's all that mattered now. She was real?
She had been watching me. I didn't exactly make it hard for her, did I? She would have known eventually.
How did she take it back without me knowing? Had it even been her? I knew P had snatched it away from me many times and I knew P wouldn't hesitate to fuck with me like that but I didn't want to believe that. I wanted to believe that the owner had finally decided to make contact with me?
I sent P a quick text asking if she'd written in the journal, ignoring everything we'd yet to discuss. I assumed she was with Lock. Was I jealous? I couldn't be. I had been with P and I knew how it ended.
P responded sooner than I thought she would. It was a brief "no".
"Oh, hey," Fay shared this class with me and seemed to be early.
"Is it you?" I had lent it to her, so it could definitely be her.
"Uh?"
"Did you write in it?" I knew I must have looked insane. A madman, even.
"No, why?"
"No reason." I wasn't sure I wanted to share it with anyone yet.
"Are you feeling okay? You look a little--" she politely didn't finish her thought.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."
I figured it was time to bury myself in the book again.
Sometimes it feels like the world is colliding with itself. Just, collapsing a little. But in a good way. It's one of those feelings that makes everything else make sense.
Like for once, in its semi-collapsed form everything is finally complete. It's whole. It's right and it's meant to be that way. It doesn't last but it's not supposed to. The end is what makes it beautiful. If it doesn't end right, it's all fucked. It's a lot like watching a half decent movie. The ending could either make it perfection or it could destroy it.
Sometimes watching it destroy itself is a moment full of wonder and awe and just overall pleasant. And other times you stumble into perfection and that's just something else altogether. Perfection isn't fun, no, you're too wrapped up in it to even realise that you're outside of it. 'Fun' doesn't even begin to cover it. It's something so fluid and involuntary that for that moment you're not even a person. You're an element at the center of that movie.
Those are my favourite kind. Insane and precious and gorgeous and just everything.
P.S. Chase and I have a date.
P.P.S I'm nervous, can you tell?
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