| Close Your Eyes |
| Sometimes I sit and watch the rain as it drips on the other side of my window. To me those drops are on the other side of the world. I�m inside, cold and alone as they drip, drip, drip on the pane of my window. The cycle continues: water to evaporation to clouds to water again. Love to evaporation to hate to love again. The cycle affects me inwardly, too. I�m inside, the rain is outside, it all works out.
I think about this girl. I�ve forgotten her name. Whether it�s because it was too long ago or because I just wanted to forget, I don�t know anymore. I don�t quite know much of anything anymore. Knowing hurts, and knowing can kill you. No, that�s not right. It�s not knowing, it�s remembering. Occasionally remembering pleasure, but most of all remembering pain. High school. The naivety of this time seared not only through my intellectual state of being but through my hormones. Shyness consumed me, but there came a point, a finite point in my life when for a fleeting second I would think, no, my mind would scream: go for it. Like a shooting star, this moment shot away. Away from me forever. So I didn�t talk to her. But I gave her my heart. My eyes gave her my undivided attention when she was near. My ears listened to the melodious orchestration that was her voice. My lips kissed the air, as dreams shattered and her image vanished before me. What a loser I was, to be fantasizing about what could never be true. And yet, at night, my thoughts went out to her, and in this way I gave her everything I had. One day I received a note in class. It was passed from her. I carefully unfolded the paper, my hands trembling. I looked down. A tap on my shoulder. �That�s not for you, idiot. Pass it down to Steven,� an angry voice chastised me from behind. My heart was racing and I wanted to die. She confronted me on the way out of class. "Don�t look at things which aren�t for your eyes.� And that was that. |
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