Nightingale

one

March 3rd 2020

Love.

What a weird concept. A concept with multiple definitions. You can love your family or your friends. You might love a stranger that you saw on the street and even though you know you will never see them again you love them. You can love a significant other, which could end in you declaring that love infront of those who you also love.

How can one word with so many ways to express it and so many meanings be something we as humans crave. We long for it. Like I said love is a weird concept.

Don't get me wrong, I've loved before. I love my family, my best friend, my childhood pets and maybe a boy I dated in middle school for a week. I have loved but the real kicker is I haven't felt loved.

Yes my family might love me but I've never felt it. And how can someone who has never felt loved write about the feeling of being loved. All the books I've written are about feeling loved. Feeling warm and giddy anytime someone mentions the person that loves you. Getting butterflies when they walk into the room because you know how much they love you.

Feeling loved and cherished is not crying yourself to sleep because you know you will never feel what others have felt. I would say I'm one of those people who long for it. I would also say I'm one of those people who are meant to love but not to be loved.

Maybe it's self pity or maybe i've just come to terms with it. I'm not meant to be loved. Sometimes the people that make you feel the most loved are the people dying to feel how they make you feel. Just a drop. Just like how the saddest people can make a room full of people feel the happiest they have ever been, it's because they want you to feel something they can't. Love is also something that can hurt. No one talks about it but love is one painful son of a bitch. It stabs you in the back and twists the knife then pulls i-

"Hey Parker!"

I jump out of the desk chair, throw my journal across the room and shriek when I hear a voice booming behind me. I turn around to see none other than Miss Callie James.

"Jesus fuck! Callie what the hell are you trying to give me a heart attack!"

"I mean if you answered your door when someone knocks then I wouldn't have to use the spare. I told you I was coming over at 5." I'm starting to regret telling her where the spare is. I might move it so she stops barging in. I owe her a lot though she's my best and only friend. Well the only one who has stuck around long enough for me to give a shit about her. I swear it was 3 when I started writing in my journal. I turn back around still disoriented from my jump scare and look at the small clock on my desk and see that it is in fact 5:20.

"Sorry Cals I lost track of time." I take a deep breath trying to calm down and look around the room but realise Callie is holding a big bag. "Um what's in the bag?"

She looks down at her right hand and shrugs with a sigh. " Reinforcements? I had a shit day at work today and to top it all off Alex's girlfriend is in town." I give Callie a confused look. Wait did she say... "Alex has a girlfriend!" Alex is this guy Callie has been hooking up with for a few months and she really likes him. I've only met him once or twice but he seemed like an okay guy.

She gives me a look that screams that she doesn't want to talk about it and pulls out a bottle of vodka from her bag of reinforcements and deadpans " Like I said, shit day. I'm gonna get shot glasses and be in the living room come out when you are done writing." She turns and walks out of my bedroom and pulls the curtain that is a makeshift door for my room closed behind her. Even though I live alone in my decent sized studio apartment my paranoia settled in and I didnt like the idea of not having privacy. Doors are nice, they keep people out.

Callie knows I write books so she must have assumed I was starting a new book but little does she know I haven't written anything in months. Well nothing worth publishing. No one knows I'm in therapy and honestly the only reason I am is because it's doctors orders. I mean my family is really the only one who knows about my illness but I don't talk about it since it's not who I am.

I pick up my journal off the floor and shove it into my desk drawer with stacks of crumpled papers and... pill bottles. "Fuck!" I whisper shout to myself. I thought I got rid of all of them but I guess not, that's something to add to the list of things to do. Callie pulls open my bedroom curtain with a huff.

"Are you coming or am I drinking by myself tonight?"

I shove the drawer closed swiftly hoping she doesn't see its contents and start walking towards her with a smile. I wrap my arm over her shoulder and pull her close to me.

"Let's pour up baby!"

-AUTHORS NOTE-

Hey guys here's chapter one its a little short but I hope you enjoyed.

Chapter 2 should be up in a bit after I double check it

kisses :)