Paper-thin [Lex Parsimoniae x Krintha]

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Thomaz M.

Original poster
I abhor tiredness. Working on a project for eight hours straight, cracking a insanely hard puzzle, researching, creating, inventing, or in my particular, anti-climatic case, waking up after sleeping for a little over two hours. My dear, dear insomnia. The chains made to keep my eyelids wide-open, at all costs. "Insomnia", tied to obsession, implies the look for a haven of sorts, following the "concentrate on a topic and all the others shall forever disappear" logic. Our brains are really quite stupid. Some parts working better than others, some not functioning at all, others refusing to shut down at any costs, it's a nightmare. After all these months facing this never-ending stream of flaws, the one thing keeping my spirit crushed is the constant, never-ending headache. I've grown really, really tired of the headaches, I really did. The best of all, I'd say, is knowing what lies ahead at the morning. The clear opposite of my "haven".

Driving my feet off the bed, I sit down, trying to brush the soul-crushing tiredness out of me. I take a glance of the window, it's raining still. Sighing, I gather strength to stand up, and continue on with my morning routine, trying my best not to collapse on the floor. Teeth brushed, shower taken, clothes put, everything seems good. Rechecking my items, I warn my dad about my departure, and remembering to get a umbrella, I leave, taking the stairs carefully to fall. Upon passing through the front gate, I honestly considered the possibility of not using the umbrella at all, just to see if the cold rain would be able to wake me up. The few raindrops that do hit me disproved the idea, though. Thankfully, the walk between my dad's apartment and school wasn't too long, a ten minute walk at best. I put on my headphones, protecting them from the rain with my hoodie the best I could. Music always helped to disconnect from problems. Even if a little, it did make an effect on me I learned to appreciate. With the topic in mind, I proceeded my walk, nonchalantly.

The school's sight truly was a reason for my spirit to tumble. What teenager never expected to arrive one day at school and spot a crater? I sure did. Quite a few times, if not all times I've put foot on the opposite sidewalk. What lies beyond those walls, however, is always the usual. Loud noises, headaches, the annoying avoidance of social interaction, a lovely package. Aiming to stay out of the halls as much as I could, I rushed to my classroom, sitting on my usual sit, finally allowing myself to breathe. Putting my bag under the table, I lean on my table slightly, letting my body rest some more, before class starts. I can almost hear the clock ticking. Through all the voices and miscellaneous commotions within those walls, the clock seemed to tick louder than it all. I can't spent a second in this hell wondering how some people enjoy this ambiance. The answer is still far out of my reach, however. I'm patient, though. What's there to lose when you're already at the bottom of the well?
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It's raining, the sounds of the tapping against my glass catches my attention as I brush the last of the bed head away. Today is the day I continue to tell myself, as I tie my favorite blue ribbon around my blonded light curls. A night sleeping with a tight braid and the most my hair could collect from it is the light falling of a few symmetrical spirals. My chest is heavy, the nerves are there, as the questions fill my head bouncing around my skull hitting each other only adding more to my butterflies fluttering at jet speed.

What if he thinks your weird.... what if he ignores me... what if I embaressing myself...

The shout of my father telling me it's time causes me to jump out of my skin. Taking one last look at my apearance I get up and make the trip to the closed metal nightmare. Ignoring the gaze of my father as he asked me if I remembered a unbrella. Responding without looking at him I kick my bag telling him it's in there. He reminds me again I must walk home from school. I nod again without meeting the eyes that might as well come from Lucifer himself. Only the sound of my heart makes the time pass by until I see the learning jail cell catch my attention. He tells me to have a good day, putting on the perfect daughter I smile gently. "Have a good day daddy." He blows me a kiss as he drives off.

The faces are everywhere are they look at me, some smiling, others wave. I grip my bag close to me as I look around a ringing in my ears. I just need to get this over with, then I can go back to normal. Then there he is, walking into the building his eyes glued to nothing as he walks almost trying to be unnoticed but I notice him. I always have... I take a step avoiding someone who was trying to talk to me apologizing saying I'm in a rush. The feeling of the smooth letter holder calms me but curls my toes in antisipation. I know he will be going to his locker in a moment, I know which one it is quickly moving shoving the note into the small cuts of the locker. I turn to see him round the corner as I rush away.

Please don't just throw it out...

It wasn't a long letter just a simple paragraph exposing her inner minds to someone she felt would appreciate it, she just hoped she wasn't wrong.

"Hello, I should have probably started this out with a dear but dear always means you know the person you are writing too. I do not know your name, I doubt you even know mine. A hello is an introduction, a telling that I wish to start a conversation with someone. I feel hello is never used the way it should be, just a word to force a quick passerby, to announce I am aware you take up space on this thing we called mother earth. I want to change that...So hello, I am extremely aware you take up space, and I dont just want to passby.

Will you say hello back?
If so send me a hello leave it tapped against your locker and I will grab it during lunch.
Let's change a word, because a word can change the world."
The bell, a relief, the sound of my chains breaking free. Surprisingly, class was, apart from the usual collection of negative adjectives I can come up with, pretty rapid. It felt like an hour at best. I don't remember falling asleep either, so, hell, I'm probably so deeply drowned in nonexistence that my mind is willingly choosing to delete flashes of memory, making things feel "faster". Or I'm just tired. That could be it, as well. Grabbing the bag under my table, I leave the classroom, unresponsive to my surroundings as usual, tracking my path towards my locker, bumping into a few people on the way. The post-bell crowd really is suffocating. A teacher even bothers to ask me if I'm alright, professor Goldman, if I rightly recall. I nod, mumbling I just haven't had much sleep last night, not realizing how suggestive that may have sound. He tried engaging conversation, but I apologized and left, appreciating the rare sign of concern. Walking to a less crowded section of the grid, I reach the hall my locker is located, spotting it amongst the dissipating crowd without much effort. Locker "244", near English class, impossible to miss.

Reaching out towards it, I put in the combination, and instead of being greeted by falling books or pens, a badly-positioned sheet of paper falls upon my feet. Even though surprised, I assumed it was school-related, a new way of communication they may be wanting to try out. Reaching down towards it, however, I noticed no logo, no title, nothing but a simple excerpt. I gaze my surroundings, looking for anyway ready to laugh at me for falling for their prank, or something among those lines. No one grasps my eyes, though. I draw back my attention to letter, reading it on the spot, allowing my eyes to swirl upon the hand-writing, and most importantly, the message. Swallowing dry, I could feel my heart starting to beat ever-so-slightly faster while my mind went overdrive trying to understand what that really meant. Some part in me wants to believe in the simplicity among those letters, but I'm just way too pessimistic for that. So much so that I spent easily over a minute trying my best to convince myself that it was all a prank, or someone may have lost a bet, but... I can't quite tackle it, but this letter felt as real as one could possibly be. Re-reading it, I lay my eyes upon on sentence in particular: "Will you say hello back? If so send me a hello leave it tapped against your locker and I will grab it during lunch. Let's change a word, because a word can change the world.". Glancing at my watch, I noticed that only left me about twenty minutes to reply. This. It's relentlessness is really overwhelming. It's as exciting as it is scary. One thing is for certain, my detective-self, even thought sleep-deprived, wants answers. However, the "myself myself" is growing keen with the idea of simply exchanging introductions with someone entirely unknown, no expectations, no commitment, just a "hello". Deviations aside, I do need a place quiet, where I can write in peace, and fast.

After no longer than a few minutes of search, I find an area on the main patio desolate enough where I could sit down and concentrate, without anyone bothering me. Sitting on the wooden bench, the next lineup of questions start to pop-up: What to ask? What to say? I was sweating. Tapping the pen nervously against the table, thinking, just thinking, for nearly five minutes straight, before finally getting the courage to start writing:

"This is the fourth page I spent trying to come up with something to say.
I guess you wanted a "hello", so: "Hello", you.
I would follow up with a name, but, we weren't just yet introduced, I don't think.
You left me with a shortage of options, a surplus of questions.
Before going ahead with the ones I do have, I'll wait for you reply.
Leave your reply at my locker again, after the last bell rings, I'll stick around a little longer, give you time to write.
Until then.
I said fourth not to sound too desperate, that was probably the seventh, or eighth. I sighed, wondering: "What did I just got myself into?". Whoever send the letter gave me the choice to back down, but honestly, how could I? I picked up the notebook, together with the letter and the pen I had brought, tracking my way towards my locker, again. Now delivering, not receiving. There's only two minutes left until the next bell rings, announcing the end of lunch. Putting the letter balanced within the cuts of the locker, enough for someone to push it out again, I left the area. I could stay there and watch, but, I don't know, for a total lack of reason, it feels wrong. I'll wait. Not meaning to be repetitive, but already being, I'm patient. I spend the next two minutes glued to the classroom door, waiting for it to open as the next bell rings.​
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My heart felt as if it was going to come out of my chest as I spend the morning doing my best to focus on the lesson at hand. At this rate my perfect A reputation was going to go down the hill the more this went on. What if he doesn't respond, the thought crushed me a bit. As I tried to focus my thoughts on the math lesson nothing but the thought of his eyes reading my words brought a jolt of electricity through me. Math was over, science took over one more class then lunch. Nothing but the thought of what if he replied went through my head all I want is for this preexisting time to speed up so she can hold something that was written in his own mumbled hands. Biting my lip I finished up the last of the lab probject passing it in ass the bell screamed that my time was finally here.

Grabbing my bag I ran to the locker hoping to find something to see the disappointment of an empty locker. The feeling of sadness took over so quickly it could have knocked me off my feet. Maybe he just hasnt respond yet? That had to be it he's trying to think of something to respond. Holding my back close I went to go sit at my usual table nothing but the sounds of people talking about things I really could care less about. Everyone excited for prom in a few months. This was our last year, and it seemed everyone had the same beehive mind set. To have it be the sterotypical every teen movie fairy tale. Yet that all seemed pointless in the end, it didn't mean anything. Anything involving it would mean nothing in the end come the day after graduation it would all end.

All of it pointless sighing I played with my fold around my fork not wanting to think about it. Everything in me jus t hoped he responded. The bell rang saying lunch was over and we had five minutes to get to our next class. Which was my favorite because he was there though no one would ever know that considering most kids never saw him, at least not the way I do. Quickly getting up it took everything in me to not sprint to the locker, just one more corner. Turning quickly it was there all I could do was smile horribly big as I walked over slipping the lined paper from the locker opening it my hands shaking as I read over every line. He responded that was all i could think about, grabbing a pen I tried to write a response but the bell rang quickly. Running to the English room I barley made it to my seat before the teacher walked in.

The lesson was horribly boring trying to think about what to say I thought and thought. Occasionally looking over at him ttying to catch a glimpse of what he was thinking. His long hair covering his eyes made it hard but I liked it added a bit of mystery to him only adding to the list of things I wanted to know about him. So quiet so different for the rest. The class was close to ending I had to respond to him now or never.

You responded, wow, so you don't think I am crazy?
I wouldn't be surprised if you did.
I guess I should give you my name, but if you do you have to promise not to talk to me.
No, not because I don't want to be seen around you before you draw that conclusion.
I just want something once in my life just for myself, I feel you can understand that.
If not then I guess I really am just crazy....
My names Kia
I sit three desks away from you in English.
And Hello

The classes end as the sight over everyone leaving caught my attention especially him getting up and leaving. Packing quickly I got up running as fast as I could. Turning a corner I slowed down walking normally watching as he walked my way. Just give it to him, be brave as soon as he passed I slide my hand into his gently dropping the note into his hand. His hand was softer than I expectd, keeping my head down I walked passed him ignoring as he turned to see who just hand him the note. My heart feeling as if it was going to exploe, but at least I was brave.
Well, the silver lining here is that at least I'm not all that tired anymore. I'm just not entirely that sure that filling that void with anxiety was the best course of action either. Anxiety displayed by the involuntary arrhythmical tapping of my fingers on my desk. Perhaps distracting me even further from the ambiance, as I honestly couldn't care less about my teacher, nor what he was teaching. I could only, as nonchalant as humanly possible, gaze around myself, wondering if one of those faces were the "one". Pondering if maybe whoever wrote that letter didn't even know my name, or my face, maybe it was a sole coincidence? "Throw it inside a random locker and see where it goes from there". Risky, very risky strategy, specially in this environment brimming with egocentric personalities and whoever knows what else.

That alone makes me think that that wasn't it. It had to be personal. Or somewhat personal. Someone I know? Unlikely, seeing as I know barely five people within this building. An admirer? I could feel my teeth grind at how impossible that thought felt. Weird how this is the most tense I've ever been in months, dare I say years. By a letter. Riddled with the thought-provoking image of a face and the swarm of questions that surround it. The unknown scares me, I guess. The unknown and its action-filled ruthlessness that scolds the air around itself. That type of unknown. However, as all things unknown, statistically, there's a possibility of a positive outcome. But I couldn't quite convince my pessimistic-self of that just yet. Perhaps I can change my mind once the I read the reply. Hopefully, I mean, there'll be a reply to read. Not the previously mentioned bully or someone to laugh at my face. I sighed, silently, not to disturb the quiet atmosphere. A piece of paper did this to me. Humans sure are weird.

Couple of hours later, the final bell rang. I couldn't even poeticize the sounds as I so usually do, my mind was busy with a literal ton of other topics. Grabbing my items of the table, together with my bag, I leave, ready to head to my locker to pick up, hopefully, the reply. I was... Interrupted, however. In the way, I felt a really soft touch on my hand, followed by the texture of paper. Acting faster than thinking, I grabbed the letter almost instantly, freezing in the middle of the halls almost immediately after, only in the next seconds analyzing what had really just happened. After I had said time to think, I look forwards, toward the exit, taking a glance at, specifically, a blonde girl trying her best to hide her face. Apart from her stature, that was all I could grasp. That was definitely a more direct approach. Unexpectedly direct. Realizing I was standing still right in the middle of the hall, I move to the side, drawing myself out of my reverie. Holding the letter a bit more tightly, I start to head out, coming to the conclusion that there, in the crowded halls was definitely not the place to read it.

Once outside the front gate, I even tried looking around, looking for the girl, but she was gone, nowhere to be seen. I took a deep breath, starting to head myself home throughout the so familiar sidewalks. My mind still unable to shut down, every twenty seconds or so obliging myself to take a glance at the letter. One, two, three, how many until I get home? I could open it right here, but, I don't know. Something in me wants to protect it. What if someone grabs it right out of my hand? What my hands shake enough to rip it apart? What if a stream of wind passes by taking it away? I couldn't take the risk. I put it inside my bag, just to make sure. And after what felt like the longest ten minutes of my entire life, I got home. Climbing the stairs to my apartment with an unfamiliar speed. I unlock the door, getting in and closing it behind me with a sigh. I rush to my room, dropping my bag on the floor next to my bed. Sitting next to it, I open it, digging through until I found it. With the letter in hands, I began reading.

"Kia", from English class. So, she does know me. And, in now a recurring fashion, I've only got more questions. "I guess I should give you my name, but if you do you have to promise not to talk to me. No, not because I don't want to be seen around you before you draw that conclusion. I just want something once in my life just for myself, I feel you can understand that." She knows me better than myself, it seems - because I do understand, somewhat. It still feels unusual, but if that's what she wants, I suppose I can get behind it. Again, I can't quite tackle why, but I'm growing to enjoy this idea. With that mindset fresh, I sat down in front of the desk near my bedroom's window, and began writing:

"Well, hello then, Kia.
And, as far as I know, I don't have any reason to think you're crazy, the motives make sense to me.
But, I do have to ask: Why me?
I can't help to believe that you had more interesting options to choose from.

And the name is Lex, by the way. Lex Parsimoniae, if we're being formal."
Asking a teacher would get her my full name, so, no damage in saying it. I'll most likely rewrite this tomorrow, or tonight, I'm not sure. This alone has been the ninth paper I've wasted, so, I can never be too sure. Laying down on my bed, I can only help to wonder what to tomorrow will be like. A new mindset. A fresh one. And I can almost feel the headache easing up a bit. That's certainly new.​

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My heart won't stop racing my legs run to my after school track meet. Quickly changing into my work out clothing I do my best to stay focused on the run but nothing but the thought of his hand in mine comes to my head. I really hope he doesn't find me crazy, more than anything I hope he understands. How could he not when I looked into his blue eyes they held the same thing as me. That annoying need to want to find something more in this shallow sadistic world. I come to a stop as a group of girls come my way all laughing and giggling. Before I know what's really happening music starts playing and the girls start dancing and singing. Its not long before I see the soccer team captain Kevin Daniels walking my way that I get an understanding of what might be going on. Before I know what's happening he pulls out some flowers getting down on one knee and asks me to prom.

I stand there baffled by everything my mouth practically completely open as I stare down at this poor guy. Everyone is standing and staring at us as they wait for my answer. "I dont know could you give me some time to think about it?" Biting my lip I run full force down the track trying to get back into my practice the whole scene was so embaressing as my legs sprint me down. I look up the sky looks orange. I have no concept of how much time has gone by until the coach comes out to tell me it's almost eight. My breath is heavy as I sip my water slowly trying to catch my breath. Grabbing my things I start my afternoon run home, everyone thinks I'm crazy for running after I go for a run but I can't help it. Running was always a way for me to feel free, wind blowing nothing but open road at my feet, the ability to go anywhere my two legs can take me. The only sad part is my house is only a mile away.

Heading through the front door I don't speak my mother is in the kitchen cooking supper as usual, father no where to be found. Sister, probably in her room talking to her new boyfriend of two weeks she's already getting bored with, and brother playing video games. Nothing changes, the again should anything change really? Walking to my room I drop everything down and head to shower. The feeling of cold water feels so nice against my skin as I lather my hair I look back at my hand as I can feel a blush spread to my cheeks. The warmth of his hand comes back into my mind. I really am crazy.

The rest of the night, dinner, homework, now I'm laying in my bed reading till I fall asleep but something is different my heart still won't calm down nothing but the sight of his face as he grabs my note from my hand plays around in my mind. I'm crazy sure, but maybe he's just as crazy too.
Funny not being able to rant how this will be just another day. Having something to look forward to is such a weird feeling... I'm sure I've felt it before in some random occasion, perhaps without even realizing it, but, as are so many things since that letter first touched my fingertips, today feels different. That stomach-freezing anxiety, it's so exotically vivid now. Depressing how an ordinary everyday feeling like this is able to mess with me these days. From such a relatively small thing as well. I guess, overall, it's the curiosity behind how this will all pan out. I mean, it could go horribly wrong, that's always a possibility. I gaze at the letter on top of my desk from within the sheets, frowning as the sound of rain tapping against the window opposite to it started to slowly draw in my attention. My mind is and forever will be clouded with worries, that's just my nature, I suppose. I sighed, dragging the sheets out from top of me, facing the cold in its rawest form. What a long night, yesterday was.

I slept probably one, two hours, no more than that. My consciousness was way too busy trying to figure out the branches that each possible outcome would create. Every, single, one. I was inches away from sketching it out, just so my mind could perhaps finally shut off. The conscientiousness aspect of my being refused, though. He's not all that loud, usually, but yesterday he made sure to speak up. Hourly reveries aside, I got up and began my mourning routine as usual, no worthy-commenting deviations. Shower, teeth, clothes, bag, and last but definitely not least, the letter, folded slightly tidier than the previous. The amount of times I reread that letter is borderline sad. I never considered myself a perfectionist, by absolutely no means, but that letter, that piece of paper in particular, and the message it contained had to be perfect. Impressive seeing my formerly numb need to impress people sprout up like this, literally in the timespan of a day. I hate being this self-conscious. Ignoring the trail of thoughts haunting me that morning, I made sure to pick up my headphones, and everything else I considered important, and left, imperceptibly faster, forgetting to warn my dad about my departure, as I usually do.

I have this weird habit of distracting myself with the stupidest little things when I'm anxious. When walking, the choice is usually counting my own steps. Until, of course, I lose count and began focusing back on whatever it is making me anxious. Vicious cycle, that is, but it does make time go by moderately faster. Following the previously instructed technique, I arrived at the front gate of college in eight, nine minutes, as usual. Projecting the usual half-dead composure as every other day, getting inside the classroom with the same amount of ruthlessness as yesterday and all the other days before that. English class was first today. The chaos theory really adores me. In a rather ironic way. Before sitting at my usual place, I put the letter inside the compartment in her desk. Knowing everyone uses theirs made the certainty of her finding it skyrocket. And no one other than herself should find it, so, it's perfect. I sit down at my desk, putting my bag underneath it, waiting for the crowd to arrive. I lay my head down in the same position as always, and I wait. Five minutes until the bell rings, five more for everyone to arrive. Eerie how the clock's beats started to feel slower. Punishment for arriving early, I guess.
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Dreams, dreams were made to escape the everyday reality of the boring lives we live. Or to escape the shadowed greys we face that sometimes turn red from people's and our own mistakes. Yet laying my head on the pillow doesn't bring me happiness if anything inside I am damned, cause when I close my eyes all i see is red, just once I would love to see something else, maybe even his eyes. How eyes would be a beautiful thing to see when I close mine, but I know nothing ever works that way.

The alarm scared me awake as nothing but sweat covers my body another night of seeing red. A dream I will never escape doomed, but before I am doomed I must be tortured. Sliding the blanket off I rush to take a quick slower wash away the night. Before long i am ready for the everyday. Car ride that makes me closterphobic, walking in being told hi to every person that looks my way. Except today there talking about what I am going to say to Kevin about the prom. A part of me doesn't want to think about anything but the thought that maybe I have a message to respond too.

I have English first today, I rush to get there as soon as I can walking in I see Lex he's sitting in his desk before I can look away our eyes meet. For a full minute I feel as if my heart is going to explode from how beautiful his eyes are. Quickly sitting in my desk I am welcomed with a wonderful feeling. He wrote back. I try to hide it but I can't I'm smiling so wide I take it out instantly to read it. I'm afraid to lok up at him to see if he's watching me read my note so I spend the whole time looking down at my desk.

Just as I am about to write ithe teacher comes in, and starts the lecture. But all I focus on is writing a response back.

what if I am crazy?
Crazy can be fun can it not?
Why you, there are so many things I can say at this moment.
I can say it's because of your personality.
Or maybe I think your cute.
Or maybe I am just bored and I know you would be a good time.
But it's non of those....

In all honesty, it's your eyes.
I look into your eyes and I see the same thing in mine.
The need for some thing more than high school, dresses and who's what now.
I think you have beautiful eyes, and I want to get to know them more.
Am I crazy yet?

I finish up writing my responce, my heart feels as if it's going to explode again. I want to run and just give it to dhim so he can respond already but I can't I have to be patient. Once class is over I leave just like everyone else not looking at Lex I wait outside the door knowing he will come out. The moment I see him his head down as usual I casually walk over lightly dropping the note into his pocket. I don't look to see if he noticed, I just keep going without a second thought in my head but my heart beating like a drum.​
Few seconds after the end of my self-pity section of the morning, there she was. Some part of me could see the anxiety crawling through her skin as she walked in, she's nervous. Glad to acknowledge I'm not the only one party to be so badly affected by a piece of paper. "The industrialized corpse of a tree". Sounds better, doesn't it? Sure are curious, the things one can think before falling asleep, add that up with my already semi-twister mind and you get terms like that. Anyhow, as she walked in, we shared these five, ten seconds of almost constant eye-contact, for what felt like nanoseconds, all involuntary. Never had I noticed her eyes were green. Emerald, even. It has the "gem-like" glow. I sighed, drawing my attention back down to the table, hands on the back of my neck. I feel tense. Ignoring her reaction to the letter, to the one thing I spent the whole night working on is... I don't even know an exact word for it. It's painful almost, as extreme as the word sounds. Sure is hard keeping up the composure in a situation like this. Maybe it'll normalize after a few days, I can't tell.

Hours of that same stomach-crippling anxiety later, the bell rings. Wondering how she was going to hand out the letter, I left, grabbing a pen and notebook in the process. Never know when I'll feel the next letter swipe through my hand, better safe than sorry. On the halls, there it was. I saw her this time, thought. My peripheral vision must be sharper after yesterday's events, I don't know. Her pace was slightly faster than mine, when passing by, she dropped the paper in my pocket, as stealth as possible. I couldn't help a somewhat preoccupied expression. The thought of when - not if - when someone was going to notice something was up worried me. In a swarm of snakes, it's impossible to be such a thing as "too safe". I sighed, letting the expression dissipate with it. I reached out in my pocket a few seconds later, holding the letter in hand until I reached a safe place to open it.

The sum of what I thought? In two words, I guess, something like "weirdly adorable". Ignoring either of the two also makes a valid statement. I sighed once again. It's overwhelming how every letter makes this feel more and more surreal. So there it is, my confirmation, it is an admirer. The question remains, however: Why am I not convinced yet? When I said this whole situation felt surreal, I said it with every single sense of the word. It's mind-blowingly surreal. There aren't words in the English language to describe an euphemism to how surreal this feels. I sat down at the same bench as yesterday, the quieter one, away from most social groups. Trying to rub the ocean of conflicting ideals in my head away, I decided to gaze my surroundings for a minute, letting my head rest against the table in front of me, and as if the universe itself had a curse against me, there she was. "Kia", sitting down with her friends. She seemed lost off the conversation, though. A reflection of myself, if I obliged to stay in the same situation. I sighed, letting my forehead meet the table, I closed my eyes, trying to organized my thoughts. Unsuccessfully, of course. I can hide it from myself as much as I want, but I still am about sixty hours without proper sleep, my hope is to collapse at home rather than on the streets, or in school. Knowing that I had to reply until the next bell rang, I gathered what was left of my strengths and wrote down what I could compose with this much of a sleep-deprived mind.

"Crazy is relative.
You're not crazy, you just have the weirdest taste in people I've ever seen.
But, I guess people do tend to say the eyes are a window for the soul, don't they?
If any of them happen to be right, you at least have that excuse as an alibi.

And you are just sort of right.
Importance is also relative.
I wouldn't consider this school, nor whatever the hell goes on inside it important.
And I mean, whatsoever.

I think I'm still deciding what I consider important, if anything, at the moment."

Why did "her eyes" come to mind when I wrote that? I'll... I'll assign that one to the randomness in my head and move on. Too much in mind already. Shrugging off the thoughts, I resumed writing.

"Anyhow, I was thinking...
If - keyword here being "if"- we continue with whatever it is we're doing here,
Shouldn't I at least know your full name?"

"And the award for most confusing letter goes to...". Alright, alright, jokes aside, I was half-asleep and in a hurry, that was the best I could do. I was non-coherent and more open than usual. Again, I'd blame my sleep-deprivation. My defenses were down, sue me. I got up, both pencil and notebook in hand, I started walking on the patio, near her table with the paper in open view. Soon enough, she noticed. In the hall, she outpaced me once again, picking the letter right off my hand. I could bet she was smiling as well. It's worrying how much I want to start bashing my head against the next locker I see. One time I'm all flowers and rainbows the other I'm knives and reapers, this conflict is mind-bending. Stressful, above all. With that lovable mindset fresh in mind, I left towards the door to our next class, sitting down next to it. There were still a few minutes until the next bell, but I wasn't in the right state of mind to care. Hooking up my headphones, I drifted off into whatever was in my playlist, avoiding focusing too much on certain topics.​
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The day was going by slower than I watned it to be. Teachers talked and talked nothing important, the people around me more talk about the most useless things I have ever heard in my life. Who in their right mind would care if there dates bow tie matced their underwear? What was the importance in that? Why would someone even wake up thinking I want to match my underwear with my dates bowtie of all things. This world confuses me in so many ways I am not even sure how to handle it all. SighingI am relieved yet at the same time dramtically upset that the bell is ringing for lunch. Back to this morning's unnecessary conversation that I persoanlly give as much interest about as getting a tooth pulled. Yet, I can not help but feel excitment over the fact that I just might, just maybe get to hear from Lex. Just the thought thrills me more than I can hold.

Walking down the hall I try and focus on the things around me excited to check my locker excited to hear anything from him. Quickly opening my locker I look to see nothing around it, or in it. Biting my lip I sigh inside shutting in heading to the usual place for lunch. Sitting next to the same group I find I was annoyingly right, the topic is still all about prom and panties. Leaning my hand on my arm, I look out at all the people around me. When I see him, Lex, he's coming right for me, what is he doing? Why is he coming here? I thought we talked aboout him coming near me durring this time like this. I don't want anyone to know about the letters, there just for us Lex, just for us.

I see him quickly toss the letter in a more discreet way then Igave him credit for. Quickly grabbing it before anyone noticed, getting up to I say I have to pee. Quickly running to a quiet empty classroom, i open the note reading every word as if im a addict fighting for their next hit. Biting my lip I smile over his messy hand writing, thiking it speaks a lot to the type of person he is.Smiling I can not help but feel happy from the thought of him spending the time to write words to a total stranger. It was a nice thouoght completely. Grabbing a pen I write another note for him.

I guess I am not crazy when you word it that way.
I know what you mean, what is important...?
The true question to any important person.
To figure out what is important.
I think I'm going to call you on this one.
I do think you do know what is important.
You just aren't clear on what that is.
WIll you tell me something important?
Even if it's a lie...

As for my name, why don't you tell me.
Lets play a game,
whats my name?
Lex Pasimonia

Smiling writing his name made me do nothing more than smile. I love his name, I can't deny that. He has a name that was just meant to be say read, written. "Lex Pasimonia." Laughing I notice the time hoping it's not to late to get this to him in time. Running as fast as I can I see him sitting on his bench he was easlier. For some reason I can't try and be stealthy, I walk straight up to him. Smiling I look down at him as he sits, our eyes not seperating for a single second. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out except for a smile. Holding the note up I gently place it into his hand not looking away from him for a second. Turning around I slowly walk away my heart feeling as if its going to pound out of my chest and land right in front if me.

"Lex...." I whisper.​
I wonder, from where within me comes the strength to keep my eyes open. In moments of such vivid desolation, I still feel my heart pumping, the butterflies in my stomach creating hurricanes to every swing of their tiny little wings. Piano keys being smashed down on every step, badly tuned violins to every voice. It's a mysterious force, dragging me out of bed, every single morning. Without meaning, reason, any sort of thrive. It's purely kinetic, controlling the muscles in my body, and leaving without explaining why. Maybe that's why in the morning our bodies feel heavier than usual. This force hasn't reached us yet, thus the lifeless feeling. Well, any philosophical deviations aside, whatever this force is, if it even exists, it sure isn't doing his job right now. I feel dead. The only tiny spark of glow in eyes comes from those damn pieces of paper. That's got to mean something. A firefly in a nightly ocean. A glow in my eyes. I can't say I have ever felt this before, since I can recall myself as a person, I've always been... "Half-dead", per say. At previous schools, I've always got comments, from friends and teachers, that my eyes always felt "lifeless", "dead". People couldn't tell if I was awake or not. Well, at least bit that hasn't changed. Don't get me wrong, I'm still very much tired, exhausted, in fact. But my eyes stay open. I have a reason to look around, as if I'm now always looking for something. It scares me that now what usually comes to mind is not a question, but a doubtful affirmative:

"I'm looking... For her?"

I tried shaking this thoughts out of my head a few times now, I swear I did, quite a few just in the last few minutes, actually. But they're still there, no matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I try to suppress them, they're are always there. I barely know her as well- in fact, I'm still oblivious to her full name, and yet... This faint connection is taking place. Where from? I do am jumping quite a few steps here, though, aren't I? The gap between them in itself is quite frightening. I sighed, letting my head rest on the table once more. I'm, dead, tired. Using my arms to rest, I waited. I didn't knew how much time she would need to read the letter, nor how much time she would need to reply. So, I waited. What else could I've done? Fighting against my own eyelids, I stayed attentive, just in case. To my surprise, she had replied within minutes, and surprising me even further, she didn't put the letter in my locker, nor did she draw my attention inconspicuously like I did, nor waited until I walked through the crowded halls: She walked straight to me, in view of everyone, and handed me the letter. Within those year-like seconds, very much happened. Our eyes met. It was instantaneous, driven by instinct. We maintained this contact for what honestly felt like eons. She extended her arm, letter in hands. I grabbed it, again, instinctively, but my eyes simply refused to draw away from hers. They were just like emeralds. Gems, sparkling like a firefly. Glowing, every so slightly sharing their light with mine. My God, what is happening? I grabbed the letter, gazing at it, a troubled look on my face I couldn't hold back. I caught her walking away out of the corner of my eye. Why do her eyes glow this much?

I opened the letter, reading every word with a weird need to be cautious about them. Of course she wouldn't tell me her name. Sighing, I folded back the letter. As if not-too-proudly accepting the childish challenge, I got up, eyeing my watch- I still had time. I traced my way, pace faster than usual, toward the teacher's lounge. "Mr. Goldman", english teacher, it was only a matter of making something up. I knocked on the door, asking the person who I assume to be a teacher for him and luckily enough, he was there.

-"Morning, Parsimoniae." -He always had a hard time pronouncing my last name, always taking his time. I don't blame him.- "What can I help you with?"

His voice was oddly flat, monotonically so.

-"Excuse me, Mr. Goldman, I, uh..." -A spark of creativity- "Thing is... P-prom is right around the corner, and I've been meaning to ask this girl if she wants to go with me, but I don't... I don't e-exactly know her name. Would you mind telling me? She's the one sitting a few rows to my right in your class. Blonde hair, green eyes." -I said, voice lowered enough for no one in my surroundings to hear me.

That's so ridiculously not me, but he doesn't know me, so, evidently, considering the simplicity of the request, it worked.

-"The blonde one? Hm. Her name, I believe it is... Kia Dartmoor, I'm pretty sure." -He dropped the thoughtful expression to a faint projection of a smile- "But, yeah, uh, good luck, Lex."

I thanked him, absconding as fast as possible. "Kia Dartmoor", peculiar name, I quite like it. Reflects royalty. And with regards to I just did, I need to admit: I feel semi-disgusted to even the act of pretending to want to ask someone to prom. It's odd in itself how repulsive it is. Anyhow, with that new information acquired, I sped my back, notebook and pen still firmly in hand. I could hand this to her before the bell rang, if I was fast. I entered a empty classroom, embracing its quietness as the waters of cold river in a hot summer day, where I'd usually be inside with the curtains closed. Metaphors aside, I place the notebook onto the table and my wrist on to the paper, savaging my sleep-deprived mind for words and eventually:

"Something important?
You know, I don't really have anything important to say.
Boring, I know.
Importance is replaced with priorities, and by the end of the day...
It's all about "existing".
Living is a next step I've never took.
It's like jumping from the top of a stairwell, down to the first step.

But I'm tired of talking about myself.
Feels condescending, after a while, don't you think?

I mean, just how entertaining can it be to uncover the contents of an empty box?"

I always wander I let my "poetic self" wonder about too much in these letters. It feels like it. I can only hope she doesn't mind.

"I'm beginning to like this, Kia Dartmoor.
Thanks for making me run across the school looking for you name, by the way.
In return, you could tell me something about yourself.
No games this time.

Someone with such odd taste in people must have interesting tales to tell."

Ripping the paper out of the notebook and folding it allowed me to call it done. Running back to the patio, of course, the bell rang. Cursing on how awfully slow I was when writing the letter down, I slowed down my pace, starting to see the crowd form around me supernaturally fast. Mayhem in its rawest form. Within that ocean of faces, I've spotted her, she had walked by me already, biting my tongue to avoid cursing even further, I tried reaching her, pushing some people to the side. Eventually, I did. Matching my pace to hers, I started walking by her, again slipping the letter into her hands, as stealthy as possible. Some people in front of me made it impossible to go in any other direction, so I remained by her side until we reached the classroom. Which felt like absolute ages. I was moving as nonchalant as ever, looking down as much as I could, avoiding looking at her eyes. Growing an almost professional curiosity to why they seem to glow how they do. I sighed, not realizing she could've noticed it, and after what felt like ages, we reached the classroom. I rushed towards my desk, shoving my face into my arms, waiting for the teacher to come. I'll probably pass-out before the end of the day, I can certainly feel it. I won't fall asleep, I'll pass-out, my body will reject the idea of renaming conscious. I'll give it an hour or two at best, I can feel it.
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My heart wouldn't stop racing as I thought about what I just did. A minute ago I was getting angry that he wasn't being very discreet, then there i go like a crazy smiling weirdo up to his face and just hand it to him. Yup, I am officially crazy but I can't help it, I was so mesmerized by his eyes I didn't even notice what I was doing, the excitment of it all just compltely got to me. Heading back to my table i was happy to see that no one noticed me acting out against our rules. Looking around to see if I could find him, I was sad I didn't. Sighing I let the conversation continue on.

It wasn't long before lunch was over and everyone was trailing to go back to class. I waited in the hall of people trying to get through. When I felt someone in my hand, I immedietly knew grabbing his hand and the note and as fast as his hand was there, it was gone. Nothing but a cold feeling from the warmth that was once there. Lex had soft hands, and the hardest thing I had to do was not to grasp at him and hold on to it like an anchor for life.

Walking into the classroom I headed to my normal seat not paying attention for a second to the the lesson only focusing on trying to get a reply out to Lex. I had an hour to think of soemthing to say to him as I re-read his letter over and over in his messy handwriting. Nothing but his hands enter my mind, wondering what they really feel like the quick second I got to feel him wasn't enough. His hands were important they were the ones that made these notes that make my day better than anything I could ask for. It made my heart pound more everytime I read it, giggling at the thought of him running around trying to figure out my name. It's kind of cute how he wanted to know so badly.

For a second I thought about what a normal girl my age would be thinking about in this type of situation. Hands, Lex's hands not just any ordinary hands, wonderful hands. A girl my age would be thinking nothing more that what his hands would feel like on my body. I stopped myself for a second when I realized I was thinking about that. What would his hands feel caressing my legs, cupping my face. Images of Lex flew into my mind as I shook my head trying not to think about him like that. Lex was special, more than just use for a cheap daydream, I need to write to him. Finally setting the paper down I tried my best to write a reply but I stopped.

What's something interesting about myself?

For a full minute I sat there staring at the blank paper trying to think of something about myself I felt was worth sharing. Nothing truly came to mind except for some embaressing things but then again, can I trust him with the deep things? He said he wouldn't judge me but how much is it that I can share with him, there was really only one way to see.

If you have nothing imortant to say who's to say I do as well.
You say it's all about exsisting..
My question is how do you know when your living?
We could be living right now and not even know it.
I like hearing about you, even if you feel there is nothing interesting about you.
I don't believe it for a second, soemthing tells me your mind is just full of things
and I want to pick at every single one.

You say you want to know somehing interesting about me.
I don't know can you handle the heavy things?
Are you willing to take that step to know what's inside my mind?
Cause my mind is an endless lyberenth that I myself have yet to see every inch.
Are you ready for this?

What's your family like?
Do you have siblings?
Does your mom make you dinner every night?
I've always wondered what is it in a mother to work all day and come home to cook,
just because it adds smiles.
I never got that...

I think at this point I am rambling.
you did run around looking for my name so here is is Lex.

I want to kill someone in my family ...
There it was I actually said it to someone, not just to my own thoughts as I shot out completely into the void. Closing the note I keep it close to me not wanting anyone to see it no matter what. The bell rings I get up walking toward him, a part of me wants to touch him right now. I don't know if people will or will not notice, its not enough to risk people seeing the note, but I can't control myself just as he did. I follow him outside the classroom walking with him before I can control myself I hold his hand lacing my fingers with his the note inbetween our hands. His hands feel better than I thought they would, there soft and warm, not sweaty like most boys. I don't want to ever let go of this hand. Nothing in me wants to let go but my class is coming. My heart feeling as if its going to shatter I let go and enter my classroom hoping he doesn't lose my note. The last thing on my mind was, yes, his hands wouldn't feel good, they would be amazing.​
My mind is out-right crooked right now. I'm dangling on top of an frighteningly dark abyss, making me stay on edge- awake, when I really, really should be sleeping. I don't have the time to ponder, I don't have the time to think. I don't find the time, nor the obvious reason, to exist. God, I abhor going down the melodramatic rabbit hole, I won't allow myself. In my surroundings: Students, the teacher, the board. Her. I involuntarily clenched my fist, crushing the paper lying beneath my hand. I sighed, realizing how lucky I was my teacher didn't care I slept in his class. "Slept". I kept my eyes closed during his lecture- unfortunately- nothing more than that. "How dare my mind even consider allowing me to sleep", he said, in a sarcastic tone. As much as I hate this, I needed to wait. Battling against myself, until finally, the bell rang.

Wondering off, trying my best to straighten my posture, I grab my bag and other items, leaving towards the hallways, glancing- an action I'd like to call involuntary- towards Kia a couple times. I couldn't help it. I mean, it was like looking at a completely black painting, with a single golden spot in it- where are you suppose to focus at? Trying my best to shrug those thoughts away, I felt it. I lose her sight for a minute, and the other, she's right by me. Holding my hand, for what felt like hours. It was... Thought-provoking. Not in that sense, mind you. It was a enjoyable distraction. How am I kidding? I enjoyed it. I, Lex, enjoyed someone lacing their fingers in mine. Sue me. We had a paper amongst the palms of our hands, but the feeling suppressed that. Nevertheless, I was quite obviously surprised, I was caught off guard, after all. I gazed the ground, still hoping no one got a chance to acknowledge what was going one here. Luckily, the hall was rather empty. Still, that entire time, I continuously fought the thrive to look her in those gem-looking eyes. I fought it with every bit of energy I had left. Evidently, that wasn't enough. After what probably was a few seconds, when I felt the slightest trace that she was about to leave my hand, my first instinct was to look at her. Before I had the opportunity to, however, she had turned away, towards her classmates.

After I lost sight of her, I started heading towards my classroom again. Rushing in, I sat at my usual seat, shoving my bag under it, I started reading the letter. Word by word. Completely abstaining the fact that I was a half-retarded, half-dead, limping zombie at the moment. For a single second, however, it all went away, to later come back double as bad. Anyhow, the letter was... Interesting. Filled, heavy, thought-provoking. She guesses it, half the time, she's right. Might be a result of the Barnum effect, but I honestly couldn't care less. Watching as the teacher got in, I got my pen, the usual notebook, and started writing. After a few tries and a few attempts of making my handwriting not seem like one of a five-year-old, I was done:

"We breath, we think, therefore we exist.
We don't enjoy it, we have complaints, we are indifferent, therefore we're not living.
It goes beyond that, point is: I exist, I breath, I think, I'm indifferent.
I "exist", and I'm okay with that.

My mind is quite full,
Full of boring, monotonous and dull things.
There are plenty of them as well. Trust me, you don't want to know half of them.
Within the context of these letters,
I grow a fear of not being able to supply what you want.
Nevertheless, I'll try.

Then again, I've always been good in working out mazes.

My family is small. It's me and my dad. My mother passed away when I was quite young.
My one sibling died a few seconds after being born.
My dad...
He tries, I respect him for that alone.
It's always been hard on him, so I cut him some slack.

Now, I don't judge, I wonder.

What would drive such an adorable looking girl such as yourself
to a strive for blood?
It doesn't fit you very well, I wouldn't think."
How screwed up am I to not be shaken up about that? I understand murderous desires very well, I had my own a frighteningly much. None were too real, however. And I never once wanted to murder my own family. Though, inside this twisted, disgusting world, I could think of a reason or two. If I am in the right track, I'll... I don't know, honestly. It would be out of my league to do anything. But a big part of me wouldn't allow anything bad to happen to her. It would be a undernourished person trying to push a car-like boulder. I sighed, realizing I may as well be overanalizying it. Folding the paper into the usual little square, I wait. Letting the overwhelming tiredness sink in again.

After what felt like days, the final bell rang. I got a hold of my items: bag, notebook, and left. Again, trying to straighten my posture as much as I possibly could, I waited near the main entrance. Looking for either a sun-shining-like blonde hair, or a pair of emerald-looking eyes. Sure enough, there they were. After spotting her, I waited outside the front entrance, waiting for her to pass by. After she did, it was a matter of handing it to her. With the letter in hand, I got a hold of hers, passing it then. I held it for a bit longer than what felt necessary. Her hand was warm, a cozy warm. I didn't have the time to notice that, last time. When we started lacing fingers, I let go. Realizing how crowded our surroundings were. I managed to work my way around the crowd, beginning to head home. A long, tiresome walk. More than usual, that is.​
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I am so nervous, he is going to think I am crazy... He is going to think I am crazy. Biting my lip I sat in class not paying attention to anything but then again, how could I knowing I just gave away soemthing that would probably scare him off completely. My heart was racing thinking about him reading my letter and slowly starting to hate me. Biting my lip I started to taste blood not caring I waited for this long class to end already so i can finally see for myself if he is still in my life or not.

When the bell rang I shot up hoping to find him but it was no luck. My head down in sadness I thought I definetly scared him off but my thoughts were re-opened when the feeling of a soft hand entered mine. I may have only held this hand once, but once was all I needed to know for sure who it was. I want to hold his hand, the need to want to was so strong especially since I spent this entire time talking myself into thinking he was going to hate me. To feel this hand in mind was the comfort I needed if only it was truly mine to keep.

Taking the note the feeling of his hand gone from mine I quickly head to my locker than the lockerroom to change for track. Heading into a stall I read the note not only was I completely wrong about the way he was going to feel about me, he also went completely out there to call her adorable looking. I couldn't see my face but even I knew it was red when I read that line. He thinks i'm adorable? Out of the whole note that was the one thing that played in my mind over and over. Wow, I really can be such a girl.

I could hear my team mates coming in and yelling for me to get ready, I will respond later. Track was quick, no one seemed to bother me, just usual talk of everone talking about nothing but prom, it was stupid and rediculious. "Have you said yes to him yet?"
I turned to see my "friends" not sure who they were talking about considering my mind is filled with nothing but Lex. "Who?" I asked really honestly not sure who they were talking about.
"Connor? He asked you to prom remember?" They all practically said in unision soemthing that I always found quite annoying.
"No, I haven't even thought about it." I spoke honestly the biggest mistake I could make.

The time it took to get back in the locker room, take a quick shower and get dressed they had all managed to throughly piss me off. Going on and on about how I am an idiot if i don't say yes to Connor but in my head I just stick to myself and think about Lex, the only man that has my attention right now.
"I mean who can be better than Connor?"

That line made me the angriest of them all, more than anything I wanted to back hand her and get angry for them thinking that Connor was really the only boy in the world that was good enough. How dare they not even think that there might be someone better because in my head the only guy I even can stand is Lex, and Connor is not even on the same league as him. Letting them have there comments I see my dad outside waiting for me, my heart sank as my hands started to shake. Quietly I walk over as he puts his arms around me hugging me close like a father would do to say hello to there daughter, nothing different or abnormal about that but I know better.

Getting in the car I sit and look out the window it isn't long before I feel a hand on my knee. I knew it, its always the same, everything is always the same...

Im finally home my body feels heavy as I quickly shower and head to my room. Looking at the bandage around my arm, wondering how I am going to explain this to everyone I sigh not thinking much about it. Pulling out Lex's note i hold it to myself wishing more than anything that i could be with him right now, something as simple as just a phone call. I wouldn't even care if we didn't talk to hear his breathing near me would be enough to help my staggering heart.

Sitting up I grab my pretty stationary paper and write a responce.

Is exsisting the greatest thing?
Sometimes I wonder what it is like to be a ghost.
Constantly away from everyone a watcher from the outside.
They exsist to themselves and themselves alone.
Lex, are you a ghost?
I feel like one a lotof the time...
Do I still exsist?
A part of me feels exsisting is nothing more than the lies we tell ourslves to just feel important...
I don't know...
To be a ghost,
i would be one...
Would you be one with me?

Adorable huh?
Honestly never took you for the type to refer to someone like that.
Can I be honest and say I am glad it was me...
Is it weird, it makes me happy to see your words are just for me...
I never see you talk to anyone yet here you are giving me all your words.
Just for me...
If only I could give you all of mine...
They would be just for you and only for you...

To give you something
I feel I need to considering you have given me something no one has truly ever given me...

What can I give you?

The average person speaks about a million words a day..
more than half are wasted
yet you hold on to yours and give them to someone like myself
Is it wrong to feel selfish enough to hope your words only stay for myself?
Is it selfish to hope you only stay for myself?

You ask me what causes a girl like me to want what I want
To answer your question...
words can cure and they can hurt
its the words I can't speak that leave me to wish what I do..
How about you Lex?
What are words you cannot speak?

When I am finished it is only then I notice the tear marks that have fallen on the page. I should re-write the letter but before I can I hear someone outside my door. My door is locked but still it was distraction enough to put the letter in a envelope and put it in my bag. These are Lex's words, and I refuse to let anyone else have them but him. Hugging my knees to my chest I throw the blanket over me and close my eyes and think of Lex and his words to me and me alone. For once, I think sleep was something that brought me happiness, and not fear, because if i sleep i am one step closer to being near Lex...

The school was pretty empty as I walked through the halls I came in a bit early to avoid everyone and actually put the letter in his locker without having to struggle to hide it. In and out simple, smiling i walk away reading the time as the busses start to show up. TIme to waste some words...​
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Sunshine, birds, the faint, almost natural sound of civilians marching on a sidewalk. And somehow, a ray of light managed to find its way directly towards my eyes, through clouds, and most importantly, my curtains. I... Slept? I slept? It wasn't a full blown twelve hours sleep, I don't think- I haven't seen one of those in ages, but it was close, definitely close; Eight to nine hours, I'm guessing? That's a stupidly high number of hours; I barely remember arriving, in fact- much less heading to bed. Speaking of which, when I finally started regaining control over my body, I felt something in my back- and of course: My backpack. I didn't remove it when I perhaps-not-so gracefully feel into Morpheus arms yesterday. I fainted, most like- about time, as well. I didn't have a decent night sleep in about a week, which counting up, discounting this one night, about nine, ten hours; Fun times.

So, my insomnia is cured- not. I do feel slightly more energetic, which is good? I uncovered myself from my sheets, blocking the sunshine with my arm, I fully close the curtains, relying solely on my bedroom's light source: a lamp. How quaint, isn't? Anyhow, I commenced my morning routine, as follows: Bath, teeth, clothes, miscellaneous final touches, backpack, you know, the usual. Finishing up, I headed downstairs to find out: My father wasn't home still- probably still out patrolling. I served myself out, putting on my shoes. The sunshine felt cold- the sun was tinted with a ever so slightly dark blue, only mislead by the sun itself, which faintly, but still strongly enough to annoy my eyes, taints the skies with its strong brushes of yellow and orange. It truly felt like a painting, specially with the lack of clouds. It wasn't every day you saw a sky like this. It's rare; It glows, shines; It's worth spending more time thinking about; Reminds me of someone, actually.

Arriving at the school gates, I did my usual ritual: Hoodie up, face down; Even without the clear view, I could very easily track my way down these halls. It's embarrassing how much I've come to grow familiar to doing this, I don't bother me at all. I can't see them, they can't see me, it's a near-perfect logic, isn't it? In every case, I finally, after minutes of tracking my way down the ridiculously crowded halls, found my locker. When opening it, I place my hand slightly below it, catching the letter I assumed would fall through. Strange how casual this is becoming; The letter was a little larger than the other ones- undoubtedly filled with heavy emotions, questions, concerns. The mind of Kia, the holder of the emerald eyes. What shall those gems hide, that's perhaps out of my reach, for now; I entered the classroom, the sitting my usual position, picking up my trusty pen and notebook, ready to write. I spend a little bit more time with this, both for its length and complexity, even though I didn't feel like I did a very good job, after all: I had a lot to portray.

"An outsider.
The ghost is generally portrayed as an outsider to a joyful world, he'll never be able to enjoy.
To me, our "joyful world" is figuratively, a web of lies.
Melodramatic and cliché, I'm aware.
But as you said, this world is, indeed, portrayed to us as not something enjoyable: But something you must enjoy.
Enjoy it for status, imposed importance that does not really exist.
I'm glad I'm not the only one to realizes the world isn't made of
happiness, puppies and rainbows.
I wouldn't go as far as calling myself a "ghost", but one thing I'm sure:

I'd gladly be an outsider alongside such a person.

My words are not nearly as valuable as you make them sound.
I'm just a guy who reads a bit too much.
I sometimes know words that fit in certain circumstances.
I found you adorable, so I took the chance.
Glad you enjoyed it, though.
I'm always glad to share my dullness with the world.
On the other hand, I don't find you dull, at all.
I mean, there is the whole weird taste in people thing, I'm still not over that.

I don't know, you feel out of the ordinary.
Out of the norm.
Out of the grid.
You feel unique.
I tried convincing myself out of it for the last two days, but...
It's not been easy;
After all, it's coming from a person who knows you as well as he knows your handwriting,
But I can't help but think you're like...
Like a rare gem.
Dig your way through tons and tons of coal,
you might just find a diamond.
And above it all:

You don't own me anything.

"Give" me yourself, you seem interesting
I haven't seen someone nearly as intriguing in decades.
Yourself is enough.
Your "crazy" self, as you like to put it.
I've been called a sociopath before,
We could be crazy ghosts, perhaps?

In all seriousness,
Whatever it is you're keeping to yourself, I want you to know:
I know pretty well how it feels.
It sucks.
It feels like having something eating you from the inside.
I'm not enticing you to tell me anything, I'm really not.
I just want you to know that if someday you're willing to,
I guess, I'll be here.

Seem you seem so interested:

My words?
I'm very often out of them.
I trip and fall over them, constantly.

It's not a rare occurrence by no means.
I can't speak.

I can't stand the replies.

They lack meaning.
They're dull.
They're vague.
They're superficial.
They're lies.
They're dynamite wrapped in a pretty gift paper.
They're colorless.

I do not trust colorless replies.

What a pretentious dilemma, ain't it?
What about you, Kia Dartmoor, any more dilemmas you might want to discuss?"
Immediately after I finished the last word, the bell rang. Timing and a half, right there; I headed towards her locker, putting the letter in through the gaps. I can't help but ponder if I'm being "too direct", or "too pretentious", "overly poetic", "boring", the list goes on and on. I hate being under someone's judgment, even if they're openly saying they want to know you better. Two days. Two days of letter-exchanging, and look at me. Bashing myself in the head for the approval of "Kia Dartmoor", the holder of the emerald eyes. I wouldn't mind getting her approval, it's like I said: I did find her interesting, but... The underlining feeling that something is not the way it seems is always lurking around- nothing against her, that goes for people in general. Anyhow, I sat down at my particular spot in the patio, far away from the "tribes", scribbling, but trying to keep an eye out, looking for a certain someone with a letter in her hands.​
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Classes, I see the use for them but at the same time I wonder if there are better ways to learn something as simple as there ABC in a less cage trapping expierence. Considering it feels as if I am the only one even paying attention. Since for a fact that I know the whole time most of the girls were texting each other prom pictures. How would I know, I know for the sure fact that my phone would vibrate in my backpack against my leg ever few minutes as wondering eyes looked at me to respond.

I do not truly care for education but it seems like a better use of my time then picking out trivial colors for a "passing right" as my mother would call it. Just after the last bell she wishes to go out and pick a cerimonial tribal dress. Trying not to think about it I spend my time writing notes to look down and see nothing but Lex's name all over my paper. So much for my notes, after realizing I spent the next half of the class re-writing my notes.

It's funny how something as simple as sharing letters with someone makes you feel completely close to someone. Would Lex still want me after the sheet of paper between us is gone? Or will he leave and hide away from me when nothing but skin is avaliable between us. The thought of Lex not being anywhere in my life scares me to no end. It's fine, I do not even know what his voice sounds like yet i can probably tell you every inch of his hand, or draw his eyes to complete perfection without even having to think about it.

The bell rings allowing me to free myself from all of this rubble as I make my way to my locker to get the last of my belongings for the next class. When I see the note nothing but a smile plays across my face leaning a hand on my locker it comes to me Lex was here. Standing in this very spot giving me something more precious than diamonds, his time, and words. Biting my lip I can't help but feel completely connected to him as I stand there unable to take the thought out of my mind. Heading to a quiet section I read his words, I can't help but feel my heart rush in time to the rythm of his handwriting. I love every inch of it...
I guess you are right,
the idea of a joyful world is obsolite
but I can't help but think it is possible...
What if I could make the world nothing but butterflies and rainbows?
Would you join me?
Cause as far as I am concerned everytime I read your letters...
I see nothing but the rainbows, and butterflies, we mock others for.
If these letters were to stop I don't know what I would do.
The world would crumble under a active volcano that does not spew lava
only darkness...

Interesting image?
Imagine a volcano that brings nothing but the night!
It sucks up our stars, and takes our moon!
Leaving us with nothing but night
Would you come and find me?
If there was only the night...
Would you search for my words?
My hand?

As for the ordinary..
I do not feel out of it
simply more laying on top of it.
Imagine a raft on a river
I am simply floating on top of it, refusing to submerge myself
yet, too scared to jump to land.

But you...
Lex Parsimoniae
are not ordinary
I don't see one ordinary thing about you

Want to know what I see when I see you?
I see a writer at his desk trying his hardest to figure out what his next amazing chapter will be
A light walking through the world with his head down casting a glow for others to follow
a knight, setting off to a world all his own..
I just hope he brings me with him...

As for your words, they are special
even if you don't know it
as long as one person treasures them they are important
and Lex I treasure them
Every word
every noun
every rythm

You may fumble with which one you wish to let go..
that just means you careful
careful to allow only what is important out
you treasure your own words but saying nothing
then you write them and give them to me.
Whats not special about that?
I stop for a second and read one of his lines again just thinking. He wants me to give him myself. In a way that line has to be the scariest thing I have ever read. Yet, all i want to do is give him nothing but that. I want to give him everything I possibly can to him but as I stare at my writing I am not sure what to give him. He wishes for myself then I shall do just that...

Finishing up my letter I walk to find him, my heart is beating faster than anything. I hear it in my ears in my soul just drums echoing over and over as I try to find him. After a bit I walk outside people are already walking in for there next class, when I see him. Sitting alone as usual, I see the window he is sitting next too. Smiling I walk back inside and circle around when I stand behind him in the window. So lost in his own world I find it beautiful just watching him my heart is beating fast than anything I have ever felt in my life. I have to do it no before anyone see's, without pause i lean against the open window sill just next to his head.

I whisper as he turns his head and with out a second thought I close my eyes and place my gentle lips apon his own. My world completely flips up side down, everything in me is on fire, without even trying my toes curl, my skin feels as if it is floating. When I seperate from his warm lips I place the letter on the window and walk away without another word, another thought. It was just a tap kiss, something you would give to a family member but my heart wont stop. My heart wont cooperate, I feel wobbly, leaning against the lockers I bite my lip and think of the last paragraph of my letter.
As for "myself"
You wish for my to give you myself?
Well then you better be prepared,
because that is exactly what I have just given you.
Were you scared?
I know I was,
walking up to you I can only imagine how terrifyed I was.
Did I look it?
Did I stutter?
I want to give you myself in more ways than I can express
But this is all I can give you right now
Was it alright?
Do you still want "myself?"
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And before I could realize what had happened, in a matter of seconds, before my brain had time to process what my eyes saw, and what my ears heard- I was hit. Down to my knees, drawn into the weirdest possible mixture of awe, surprise and the barest, rawest form of confusion. My ears stopped functioning, like I was just hit by a flash grenade. The only sound capable of perceiving through my distress was the thunderstorm my heart beats had turned into. Each individual beat its own unique uproar. I was motionless, frozen in time like a picture. A memory whose worth is in constant debate. My own perception of reality was shaken. My brain refused to process the information my eyes were trying to send, instead, it focused on nothing but myself, and a blonde figure, moving away from me. All of it happening at every possible speed, in every possible angle. My brain was in overdrive, and at the same time, not willing to think. I began sweating and slightly after, my transe seemed to start wearing off. I fought every instinct in my body ordering me to scream at the top of my lungs, I tried my very best at reestablishing my mental composure, failing horribly in the process.

Placing one of my hand in my cheek, I realized I was most definitely blushing. This wasn't good. I'm usually flawless in regards to hiding emotions, putting up masks and all of that- I've been doing it long enough for the "skill" to develop. I can't remember the last time it was this challenging, though. Don't get me wrong, physically, I was fairly composed: My eyebrow was slightly raised, my hands, which I laid my head on, continued static, my posture was shaken up, though acceptably straight- stop looking solely at the outside, however, and you'll very quickly notice, I'm a complete mess. I wasn't kidding when I mentioned I'm a fair bit away from being away to compose the most basic thoughts. I couldn't even begin to describe how it felt, not even to myself. And yes, I wasn't paying much attention at the time, but I'm not naive enough to at least guess what happened. An unfamiliar female voice plus that soft pressure on my lips? I'm not a rocket scientist, but if I were to make a wild guess, I'd say that Kia Dartmoor just kissed me. A few pieces of paper exchanged, and look where we are.

I stood up, picking up the letter I just now had noticed was placed on the window next to me. I needed to vent somehow. Hiding my face under my hoodie, I traced my way towards the bathroom, where a couple of unknown faces resided, chatting indistinctly, most likely than not about the upcoming prom. Ignoring them the best I could, I positioned myself in front of the mirror, ultimately reaffirming that I was, most definitely, blushing. I shook my head, still not entirely sure what to think of the whole situation. "T-This is moving way too fast", was the first thought that popped into mind. Evidently followed by: "But... I liked it, I think?". I washed my face at least two times before leaving the bathroom. It's been a while since I've wanted to punch something this badly. That's what concealing this amount of shit does to you, I suppose. I'm not mad, I'm just clueless on what my next step will be and... I'm worried about that, for the first time I can recall. It's new, it scares me. I'm human, sue me.

So many points to weigh, so many more to rationalize. It's only been two, three days, a few pieces of paper exchanged and she kissed me. Is this what people call love? I'm so unfamiliar with the concept, that I'm honestly not even sure myself. Why is she special to me, anyway? There's no "reason", as per say, but she is, and I can't pinpoint why. Is this, really, what people call love? Why do these letters seem to weigh more than they actually do? Why do I feel like I've known her for months if I've only knew her for less than one? Why am I contrarying all social norms I know and starting to not care that kissing someone whose name you've only known for a day is not suppose to be okay? Why do her eyes glow this much? Why are her lips so soft? Only midway to the classroom I realized I've forgotten to put my hoodie up- by then it was too late. Leaned against a locker, I spotted her. Raising an eyebrow, not sure if she noticed me or not, I sighed. I stood still for about five seconds, before moving on. I had too much in mind, and I'm not the type to act instinctively, I had to think. Above it all, I had a letter to read. About time I welcomed back my insomnia.

Arriving back at the classroom, I sat back at my place, placing the letter on top of the desk. I sighed, then began reading it. We're getting very philosophical with these, I just now noticed- not that I don't like it, much the contrary, I'm just happy that she isn't bored of it by now. After I finished reading it, the whole classroom was crowded up, and as the rule still applies, the chatter really did annoy me when I began writing, but I managed to work through it.

"Scared? I wouldn't call it that.
I was surprised, for one.
Confused, for two.
And unsure on how to proceed, for three.
I'll give you this one, you really did caught me off-guard.
So much so, that I'm not even sure if you shuttered or not,
After I've finally realized what had happened,
you were long gone;

I was left off with this weak sample of the tone of your voice
and the leftover pressure in my lips;

You could've warned me, still.
When I asked for "you",
I meant, well, you.
I'm an self-proclaimed introvert, as you probably noticed,
I am, also, however, willing to know more about someone seemingly as interesting as you appear to be.
A quicker way of communication in the future, perhaps?
You seem to have stories to tell, discussions to discuss,
You have a way with words, that's for sure;

A way with words and a weird taste in people is a dangerous combination, though.
Watch out;

I'm a strong defender of the idea that anyone is free to believe what they want to believe,
However, I perhaps didn't express this well enough:
I really am not special,
Pretentiousness aside,
I'm not as much of a "knight" as anyone in the school is.
It's very easy to romanticize the unknown, Kia.
If you truly are so willing to know me,
Why not?
We'll find our upsteps as we go, how does that sound?

It isn't a matter of "giving" me yourself,
It's a matter of "knowing", "discovering"
And I feel like I'm still to uncover your full self, Kia.
My expectations are high, but I'm sure you won't disappoint."
I let out a heavy sigh, troublesome having to fight off your more animalistic instincts. A small part of me kept bugging me on how I should add how it "physically" felt. I know how it felt, I'm well aware, but, the details are null. The meaning behind the kiss resonated much more than the physical act itself, and that I portrayed well, I hope. It did feel like pushing the brakes on a car who was going too fast for its own good. The speed is enticing, but it doesn't take long for it to hit a tree somewhere. I hate to be "that guy", but that's just me. With time to spare, I waited for about an hour or so, when only then the bell rang. Gathering my items off the table together with my bag, I folded the letter, and managed to find her locker through the crowd, squeezing the letter through the gaps, as usual. My breathing felt heavier than usual, I couldn't pinpoint exactly why. "Kia Dartmoor, you sure are a roller coaster ride".​
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My heart was speeding so fast I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I actually did it, I kissed Lex, I don't knonw why I was so shocked consindering I was the one who did it. Oh god, what is Lex gets mad, I didn't even think that far. What if he hated the kiss? What if now he never wants to talk to me again, what if doing this is just now the end? Oh god, I can't think about this, I can't think about losing Lex right now. Not when he is the only thing keeping me even saine in this damn world. To lose Lex would be to have the volcano suck up more than just my stars in the sky but to leave me without even darkness to hold on too.

I think im being a bit dramatic but I need this class to end so I can see if he haas written me or not, I need to read his words, know whats in his mind before my own mind exlpodes from the pressure I feel right now. If I keep this up I know Iam going to pass out from brain overload. Sighing I try and focus in class but it wont happen, all I feel is Le's lips, and kind words. I wish I was with him right now, funny how i made the rules not to speak in person, or go up to each other yet I am the one breaking all of my own rules. I can't help it, the more I talk to him, get to know him the more I just bury myself in him, his words, his warmth. It kills me even if I know the odds of us being together will never be truly there.

Sighing I was shocked by the sound of the bell as I got up quickly as ran to my locker to see if he had written me. Seeing the letter there gave me a feeling of peace and anxiety that I have never truly felt in my whole damn life. Grabbing it and heading to my last class I read it over and over my heart felt as if it was going to sink. Did he not like my kiss? A disapointment set in as I read his note one more time trying to figure out the words to respond to him. I'm an idiot, of cource he doesn't want me like that, to think somone like Lex ever could was a mistake. Sighing I grabbed a pen still not sure what to say, my heart felt sad for some reason.

Well he didn't say he did not like my kiss just that is shocked him that is to be expected given probably to him other than these letters I have never shown really interest in him other than this one kiss we shared. Yet the more I though about his lips the happier I felt even if he wasn't thinking about my own. Sighing I grabbed a fresh piece of paper and started to write him a responce.

I'm sorry..
I am not truly sure what else to say but I am sorry..
I feel like I did you a wrong but expressing myself in a way you probably weren't ready for.
I am glad you responded to me though...
I was scared there that my careless ways had made me lose you..

I guess that is one thing I can say about myself
I am very impulsive.
I want something I go for it
I do not think about the consequences
I want it
I take it

I am sure deep down that is a horribly way to live my life
I will say sorry for doing something that probably you were unprepared for
I am not sorry to myself
at this moment I am thinking about your lips Lex
I don't regrete that
I will never be sorry to myself for that
but I am sorry to you

not the knight
I will I could give you my eyes let you borrow them
so you can truly see how I see you
you say your not a knight
yet you have no idea how much you have truly saved me

oh Lex
how I want to tell you everything
spill my darkest secrets and more
but not even my darkest of secreats have I told myself yet
You want me to give you

Who am I?
What do I have to give?

You say I have stories...
only one
and it can never be told...
or else
I would have to say goodbye
and to say goodbye to you Lex
would not be losing the stars in the sky

it would be to lose the sky

Im sorry to you
but not myself
There are many things I am sorry about
but you
will never be one of them..

Quickly finishing up my letter I closed it and waited for the time to go by, 20 min, 10, minute, 5, minutes, freedom. I don't know where he is, I can't find him in the crowd, ther are to many people but I want to give him my letter myself. It doesn't feel right to give a letter such as this away without handing it to him in person. Walking to his locker I wait there, letting the people walk by as if they barley see me. I like this feeling, this feeling of not being seen, for the first time in my life I feel invisible, and that is the greatest feeling in the world. By the time I notice how much time has really gone by I know I am late to track. There is practcally no one in the hallway anymore by the time I turn and see him trailing down the hall. He see's me, how could be not I am the only person left in the hall way.

I want to say something, I want to read my letter to him, would it be crazy to do that? Are we at that point where I can read him my letter? It doesn't feel right at all to just give it to him. When he walks up to me I put a finger to his lips showing him not to speak. Grabbing his hand I bring him outside to the court yard where it's completely empty. Not letting him say anything, we said we would not speak to each other so I am going to keep that rule. I bring us to a tree and make him stand on one side his back to the tree. Smiling I walk around to the other side my back to the tree.

I can't see him, but I know he's there, I can feel him even through the harsh solid wood, like his warmth is seeping through the tree and on to myself. Im so nervous my hands are shaking as I open the letter getting ready to read it. I want to give myself to Lex but I don't know how. The biggest mysetery to myself other than Lex is myself. I let out a low breath and read him my letter. I speak slow and clearly, not letting myself miss a sylabol. When I am done I stand there enjoying the slience and the closeness. I reach my hand around the tree and pass the letter I just read to him to his hand. I can't help but want to stay right here, in this silence forver as long as I have this hand in mine.​
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I certainly have a love-hate relationship with procrastination. Before I left, I needed to manage some things with a teacher about a project that wasn't graded appropriately - bureaucracy, mainly. I very easily wasted about twenty minutes dealing with staff members and forced interactions, very "lovely" way to end my school schedule for the day. Dealing with half-decent middle aged white men, who look as if in constant need for someone to tie their shoelaces that morning. Ignorant hypocrites, reading, and actively arguing about which political party is the best, without noticing the flaws and equal amount of idiocy in both of them. Pretentiousness in every corner. When I finally managed to leave, resolving the issue in hand, I tried rushing away from this cage, even I get claustrophobic after spending more than six hours in a place like this. It isn't like I don't have my own problems to think about. "Problems", "problems," problems". I do have this habit of name-calling new experiences: "Problematic", "troublesome", I wonder how many labels until I notice the worth behind something new. I'm stubborn, I won't realize it by myself. Good news is, I don't think I need to anymore. Someone decided to steal away that role from me, taking with them its responsibilities, worries, and more. I should be thankful, shouldn't I? Curse me and stubbornness. It isn't the first I've said this, but: I'm human, sue me.

Before I could even begin clouding my mind with more worrisome thoughts, I noticed someone. Yes, that someone. Standing by my locker, of all places, with a letter in hand. Our glances met, and her anxious smile was enough of a hint: She wanted to me to walk up to her. I have the social skills of an infant, but I'm receptive enough to notice this. Seeing no other options, and not being able to decline that adorable smile, I sighed, walking up to her, looking in all directions possible, avoiding any quiet face to go by unnoticed, not knowing what to expect. We were completely alone, the school itself was almost entirely empty. A sudden wave of quietness I didn't notice until that very moment. Fitting, some would say. I stood a couple feet away from her, but before I could even consider open my mouth to say anything, she placed her index finger on my lips, having to reach upwards to do so, to next grab me by the hand, directing us towards the courtyard by the main building. Reluctant to remain silent in the first few seconds, I did open my mouth to speak, having my consciousness shut it back for me before I could say anything. The path wasn't too long, two minutes walk at best - the particular scenario reminded me of couple pictures you'd see on social media. The girl in front, pushing the guy in her direction. We're only missing the cherry blossoms.

Before long, we arrived at a tree - the tallest at the entire patio, in fact - and following her silent instructions, I stayed in one side, as she positioned herself in the other. Clueless to what she had in mind, I only waited: allowing, to the best of my abilities, for her to have this moment. What in my selfish self decided to do that, I honestly cannot say myself. Nor did I care all that much. I'm not the type to care about someone's happiness, but something about her made me not care to go out of my way to assure a glimpse of joy; After the sound of paper being unfolded, and a faint cough, she started. She read me her entire letter, phrase by phrase, word by word, syllable by syllable. The effort in her voice, clear as the translucent waters of a lake. Patiency, I waited for her to finish, and then, I couldn't hold back a small smile, followed by a worriless sigh. After she passed me the letter, a few more minutes of silence reigned upon us. An almost therapeutic wave of laconism. Giving me time to think, to build an appropriate response.

"Under the tallest tree, the tallest upstep yet.
And I won't accept the apologies, as they were never meant to be given in the first place,
You have nothing to apologize for,
The kiss was a hit or miss,
I didn't say which one it was.
Is saying it important at all?
For I might ask, as much as I may learn to enjoy the lips,

The person behind them, the person behind this tree is what interest me.

Touch, skin, lips.
These are upsteps we have no reason not to make.
The gorgeous pink leafs of a cherry blossom may be what calls people's interest.
But what is of a tree without its trunk and roots?"

Getting a firmer, still soft grip on her hand, I continued.

"Someone must've told you how much your eyes glow, don't they?
I can't be the only one who sees it,
Which I found quite alluring,
as earlier in this little adventure I mentioned how some people say the eyes are a window to the soul,
That's gotta mean something.

I may be trying to see how deep a pool is by simply studying it from afar,
Perhaps I do need to dive in.
I trust myself enough to hold to the edge, if needed
If not, it isn't like I have much to lose, either way.
It's a very tempting dive, as well."

Moving myself closer to her, I gaze at her, drowning in doubt, but unwilling give them leverage.

"Too soon, too late,
If this little escapade has told me anything is that I'm too stubborn to care.
If you want to know me this much,
Sure, I'll give you the chance.
At the speed you think is necessary.
I'm yours to have, perhaps now you'll see how boring I really am."
I cannot describe in words what just passed through my mind for that lineup of words to be made. Impressive, I have to admit. It's a new mindset, which as anything new, I'll soon call it troublesome and problematic, however, I dove in already. I'm already too deep to swim back up. It isn't a question of why, it's a question of why not. It's a valve realizing the pressure off of my mind in speeds unknown to me. Holding the brakes takes an amount of energy I don't have, if to realize what we need is to take it slow, I need to drop loose, that's what I'm now willing to do. An epiphany, an explosion, a new mindset, a gift. Perhaps when we break through these paper-thin chains, we'll reach a common ground. Perhaps then we'll finally find where the cherry blossoms are.​

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(Proceed with caution, was reading yaoi before I started this post hahaha Also, lucky you two posts in one week from me~ So proud)

My heart was beating so fast it had me panting just trying to get air into my system, my breath was heavy as I felt his hand in mine. God, how much I want to just walk around this tree and hug him, just stand there in his arms where I know for a fact safety is there. I don't know what it is about Lex, even when all we had was just letters I felt safe with him. He truly is my knight in shining armor, at this moment i wonder should I walk away? Do I stay? Lex what do you want me to do? Just tell me.

After I have that little thought I hear his voice, for the first time I hear him speak. He's giving me a letter right here right now. No thought just whatever plops out of his little mind. I want to cry I feel so happy right now, as I hear him. His voice is soft and gentle like a poet's exactly what I thought it would be. Gentle, warm, inspirational, I honestly could just stand here forever and just listen to his voice. I close my eyes not wanting to miss a second of his warm words. There's a pause when I hear him speak again he's right next to me, our hands interwined. Right then and there I can't control the feelings I have for him. My watering eyes finally let the delicate tears fall on to my face, I know I am not heavily crying but I can't make it stop. They just keep coming, as I cover my lips with my hand that is not clinging to him for life.

This will forever be the greatest most pressious moment of my life. The moment where I got to stand tall next to him, of cource I cried the whole time but how could I not. Every word out of that mouth was beautiful, completely tear worthy I would say. When he stops I can't stop looking at him, looking into his eyes. I have never wanted to be close to someone in my life as much as I have wanted to be close to Lex. He doesn't judge me, doesn't look at me as if im just a pretty face. Never pushes me to think something I don't wish too, never throws his own views on to me, he gentle and soft in more ways than I can even try to comprehend.

I sniffle even if it's embarressing breaking the quiet silence that we had, never has a moment of silence not been awkward, yet here I could stand here forever and be the happiest person on the planet. Would it be wrong to say I love him? Probably so considering we still don't know everything about each other but that's the thing about the heart. You can just look at someone from just the corner of your eye and think 'I love this man and i havent even said a word to him.' Yet standing here with Lex I know for a fact that even if I want to convince myself what I feel for Lex is not love, I will give myself this.

"I wish I could stand here forever, this moment is probably the safest I have ever felt in my life."

Im so full of emotion, I am not even sure if what I said was in my head or outloud but I can't take it anymore. This feeling to be next to him is just so strong. I hope he doesn't mind, maybe I should ask this time.

"Do you mind if I wet your shirt?"

I say it but don't give him enough time to really respond to me I don't unlace our hands but I wrap my other arm just under his armpit my hand grabbing a bit of fhis shirt on his mid upper back. My face hiding into his shoulder, I close my eyes just letting the tears fall. He's so warm, he smells like a new book mixed with forrest. I believe for the first time in my life I am actually allowing someone to really touch me. Really hold me, I don't feel disgusted, I don't feel as if millions of bugs are crawling across my skin. Just warmth and secrurity, all I have felt since starting to talk to Lex.

I love him...

Biting my lip I can feel how red my face is, the one moment I am so glad my face is being hidden from him. So he can't see the degree of how I feel, I am just truly happy I did not say it outloud. If he thought a kiss was to fast, before I can even help it im giggling against his chest. I love someone I barley know, and probably thinks im a nut bag. I think these are words I should just keep to myself for a little while, until I know he is ready, if this shy man that owns my heart is ever ready. Still lightly giggling, I refuse to let him look at my face, it must look like a mess. But I did keep my word on wetting his shirt, the area where my face is touching is soaked he can most likely feel my tears on his skin.

Our fingers still laced makes for an awkward one handed hug but I have never felt so comfortable in my life. It's then I realize just how tall he really is, his chin can be placed so comfortably on the top of my head. He is either tall, or I really am shorter than I think I am. Oh Lex, all the things I want to tell you but more than anything I just want to stay here in the safety of your arms. If only I could really share with you how much you truly mean to me. You say your boring but I have felt nonthing but excitment with you. Just standing here in your arms for these few minutes is the most anything I have had in a long time.

Don't let me go Lex, if you do I have to go back, back to the pain, the lonliness, everything that I feel from dawn to dusk. I don't want to go back to that, I can't go back to that not after feeling true security for the first time. To go back to that lonly waste land would be truly unfair, yet I know I cannot just keep him here forever standing letting me cling to him like a lost child. Before I even know it, I'm shaking, physically shaking, the fear of everything is so much I don't know what to do. Gripping on to his shirt tighter I go back to crying a little heavier this time.

Yeah, at this moment he definetly thinks I am crazy...
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