In the Midst
Her roommate brought home the most adorable puppy with liquid brown eyes. It brought her out of her shell enough to talk. She laughed with the puppy, she tilted her head at it, she drowned right in its eyes.
At the back of her mind, she knew the puppy didn't follow her home but someone else. She tried to ignore that fact when she and the puppy talked for hours. She tried to ignore it when he lent her his jacket, when he tried to carry her tray for her.
She tried to ignore it when they were talking on her bed. When his feet brushed against hers and even through the layers of blankets and socks, she could feel them burning past the fabric, into her flesh as if they were right next to each other.
Not again. Not again. Why again? She flashes back to a hand touching her wrist, touching her ankle.
She tried to ignore it when she shifted her feet and he rested his head against it, lost in his own world. And she remained perfectly still, watching his profile against her blanketed feet. She could imagine his hair, slightly prickly and wavy, his unsmooth face... that texture against her feet. But still, seperated by fabric.
It was too shaky because she didn't initiate this. It was a friendship by default. The puppy came home with someone else. They weren't supposed to be friends. Petty. Jealous jealous.
"Who are you talking to?"
"What do you mean? I'm talking to you of course."
"Yeah. But are you really? I mean, you could be talking to anyone. I could be a wall. I could be interchangable with anyone else."
"No. I'm talking to you.Just you."
"Okay. I just needed to hear that."
Why didn't you find me first?
At the back of her mind, she knew the puppy didn't follow her home but someone else. She tried to ignore that fact when she and the puppy talked for hours. She tried to ignore it when he lent her his jacket, when he tried to carry her tray for her.
She tried to ignore it when they were talking on her bed. When his feet brushed against hers and even through the layers of blankets and socks, she could feel them burning past the fabric, into her flesh as if they were right next to each other.
Not again. Not again. Why again? She flashes back to a hand touching her wrist, touching her ankle.
She tried to ignore it when she shifted her feet and he rested his head against it, lost in his own world. And she remained perfectly still, watching his profile against her blanketed feet. She could imagine his hair, slightly prickly and wavy, his unsmooth face... that texture against her feet. But still, seperated by fabric.
It was too shaky because she didn't initiate this. It was a friendship by default. The puppy came home with someone else. They weren't supposed to be friends. Petty. Jealous jealous.
"Who are you talking to?"
"What do you mean? I'm talking to you of course."
"Yeah. But are you really? I mean, you could be talking to anyone. I could be a wall. I could be interchangable with anyone else."
"No. I'm talking to you.Just you."
"Okay. I just needed to hear that."
Why didn't you find me first?
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Btw, it is so much better to read this blog. I mean...I imagine if you ever wrote in thingummyblog, it'd just be like, "Yes. So I'm going out with [ye-eah...I don't even know his name, what is it?? >_<]" whereas in this you actually get the feel of it and the actual emotions involved. *hehe* This is how I write my secret blog, too. It's like...a mental snapshot and a way in which we can use our 'writer aspects' to capture a moment rather than an event.
...am I ranting? yes yes, I think I am. Me? Procrastinating? Never!