His eyes are wide. He’s staring, but he doesn’t realize. She’s nervous. She curls her fingers and clutches them tightly in her palms. He was cute at first, but he hasn’t blinked in far too long. She’s getting scared and angry, He’s such a creep, I’m gonna be here a while, I’d better say something. She removes herself from her seat and her friends, pantomiming being right back. She jostles through the crowded room getting more frustrated and angry, Why did he pick me to stare at? What does he even want? Does he think he hot shit or something, that he can do stuff like that to people? Finally she is standing behind him. It isn’t surprising that he’s still staring, but what’s curious is that he’s still staring at where she was. Her hands are shaking, maybe this was a bad idea. She clears her throat, he doesn’t notice, “Uhm.. Excuse me?” she offers sternly.
"What’s that…?" His head shakes violently for a moment and he blinks hard a few times involving his full eyebrows and cheeks,"Oh, sorry. Can I help you?"
"No! I mean, uhh… sorry, I thought you were someone else." He was spaced out? So he’s not a creep? Well maybe, but at least not overtly.
"Well, then I guess i was…" He cracks a smile and pauses for laughter, but her mind is off on some new tangent, "someone else. get it?" He bursts out laughing as she smiles and chuckles.
He is kind of charming, even if his jokes are bad. It’s kind of funny how much he enjoys them. "Maybe next time you’ll be exactly who I’m looking for."
"Oh?" He understands this remark as much as she enjoyed his joke.
"I’m Meghan by the way. You should come sit with me and my friends, we can get to know each other."
"Yeah, I think I’ll do that." I can’t believe she actually talked to me, she noticed me, she wants to get to know me. I hope she didn’t catch me looking at her before…
days go by, weeks, months, a year and then some. I still wake up in a cold sweat wondering what I’m even thinking about, shaking like a leaf. Trying to stop it only lets the fatigue set in faster. I feel weak; I couldn’t get out of bed if i tried. The cravings hit; my body yearns for something more, something it thinks it still needs, but I refuse to succumb to its demands. Deep breaths; In - I’m on my feet, and out - walking towards the door, in - get into the shower, out - get dressed, in - leave the house. My heart pounds back and forth between the base of my throat and the inside of my chest. Leave the house, my legs wobble until i grit my teeth and lock my knees. Stand tall, back straight, shoulders back, chest out, be strong - leave the house.
I didn’t think so, well in that case let me ask a few things of you. what do you see when you look at me, past my skin and bone. What do you think is inside this case, this shell that i call home? Do I have dreams and aspirations and what might those be? Do i like music more, movies, or possibly tv? whats my favorite color, maybe pink purple or chartreuse? Have you thought of your own questions yet? are you tired of this abuse?
please just ask me anything, you don’t need an excuse. You are allowed to talk to me whether it’s day or night, even if you know i won’t answer right. if im working leave a message, if i’m sleeping wake me up, I’ll answer when i can even if it’s just a ‘yup’
So scream for my attention, and never play coy, don’t you see i’m a boy, i won’t play that game, my hearts not a toy. It’s fragile, so i’ll keep it locked away from you if fooling around is all you do. I just want to talk and laugh and love and sing, with you and as many people as you can think to bring. even if that’s one or none we can have a good time, just talk to me, ask me questions, just don’t ask me to rhyme.
Last night I walked into a tea shop unlike any you’ve ever seen or any i’ve been, it was like i was in a dream. I sat as the waitress brought me a cup i didn’t order she said it wasn’t for me instead it was for her. I sipped it and i could feel my mind open as wide as my eyes, i realized I was empty inside and i inquired what kind of tea could have this ability, to make me see clearly how hollow of a man i can be. She told me it was clarity and i thought she was joking, asked what she had been smoking,but honestly it was my intrigue that i was cloaking. Well then what else have you got? She said try this, be careful, its hot. It’s sweet, you’ll like it just don’t have too much or it’s your soul not your teeth that will rot. I tasted it, she was right, it was delicious, that is until the after taste hit, so bitter I’d have to spit if my teeth didn’t grit. I looked up for answers and she whispered prosperity, and that after bit, greed, It’s a tea we don’t really need, and with that i agreed.
He sees her from across the bar and melts. Hasn’t even had a drink yet, but he can hardly stand. His knees wobble, his hands shake, and his heart pounds as he makes his approach. He breaks a sweat walking what feels like a mile to the empty stool next to her. Unfortunately it still wasn’t a long enough walk to think of anything to say. Putting one foot on the rest at the base of the stool and turning towards her to place himself on the seat his mouth hangs open searching of the perfect opening line. Still unable to find the words to woo her he flashes a smile just before she interjects, “My boyfriend is sitting there.”
"Nice of you to notice," he says feeling pleased with himself. She giggles and her scowl shifts to a smile as she turns her face towards her own lap. Smiling to himself now he feels a hand on his shoulder. "I had a lovely time," he assures her as he turns to find another seat. "Pardon me," he pleads with the burly gentlemen hovering above him. Still love drunk, he stumbles to the farthest stool he can find and takes a seat.
Lifting his third beer he spots an unfamiliar design on the napkin beneath it. Pulling it towards him he reads aloud quietly, “Can’t wait for our second date… XOXO… Love, M.” He smiled at her usual seat, now empty, from his usual seat. “See you Thursday,” he whispers softly as a smile spreads across his flush cheeks.
Her eyes are a bottomless pit you could fall into for eternity, at the center of which is a black hole that sucks you in and refuses to let loose it’s infinite grip. It’s almost unsettling how comfortable she can make you feel. Her voice is as soft as her skin which she won’t let you touch. Silence is golden as it hangs in the air around her, but shatters into shimmering wonder when she breaks it. She is the only one who knows what lies behind the stone face she carved to protect herself long ago. Her smell soothes you and lingers on your jacket, which is why you’re always glad to give it up on the coldest nights, and in your car, which is why you don’t mind taking her home as much as you’ll admit.
She’s a punk. She’s got tattoos and that makes her tough in her mind, because what’s more hard core than flowers and music. Too grunge for leather, or maybe leather’s too expensive for someone who won’t take a job from the man, she wears denim that came pre-patched with band logos she googled in case anyone asked her about them which no one ever does. She smokes cigarettes, American Spirits, because those other brands use unnatural chemicals and supposedly kill you faster. She may not care about herself but she wants to be able to not care for as long as possible. She tries so hard to look like she doesn’t care what you think that everyone sees how much she cares. She flips everyone off because she doesn’t have feeling and she doesn’t care about theirs, but she cried that time a guy called her a bitch for it. She’s cold blooded, maybe that’s why she’s always hibernating all day.
I want to hear a heart beat that isn’t my own. I want to hold a hand in my right that isn’t my left. I want to kiss more than cheeks and foreheads. I want a love that isn’t of family or friendship.
I love what I have, I just want someone to share it with.
He gets home and slams the door behind him. The metal halloween decorations hanging on the outside clang against the wood and the kitchen vibrates momentarily and his brisk walk takes him into the dining room where he kicks off his shoes, blocking the way for anyone else who may want to traverse the crap filled room. He carries himself up the stairs two at a time and makes a few hard rights to his room. He steps over clean clothes mingled with dirty clothes strewn across the floor never making contact with the stained carpet he grew up on and ignores the musk of his ferret. Diving into his bed he wraps himself in the stale blanket that hasn’t been washed in months and curls himself into a heap. Bundled up he buries his face into his pillow struggling to shut out the thoughts of eyes and smiles. He knows he has friends and people who are there for him, but it’s times like these he doesn’t want them, and doesn’t deserve them. He tilts his head back, straining his neck, and lets a few gasps of air into his lungs. The cold air burns his nostrils and his eyes begin watering. Shutting them tightly he covers his head with the blanket and pretends to sleep .