... Completely written on a whim. I realise that nothing happens and its all just reflection but i'm wondering is it alright? To be honest it was completely self-indulgent so its ok if no-one likes it but anyway here goes... I miss him. Its not in the gaping hole in my chest that threatens to suffocate me every time I even come close to thinking about it. When I get to the jagged edges, I don’t fall in. It used to be, but then again a lot of things used to be, we used to be. I miss him in a way that only makes me sad when it rains and when the cold is so forceful that it sinks through my clothes and shakes me from within. It shakes me, wakes me up to the situation. Because now, I am far enough away to look back; a safe enough distance not to be hurt but close enough to see the devastation. It’s in this mid-running away, awkward glimpse back that I get the delightful opportunity to reflect, note the sarcasm. And all I see is lost opportunity; I shut my eyes before my thoughts drift to the scary memories. Enough for one day. I shut him out, but he’s always there. Perhaps it has become habit for him to constantly ghost through my mind. He’s there when I’m trying to do homework telling me that everything’s okay. He’s there when I’m walking and if I’m not careful I’ll fall down off the jagged edges and start running. Most importantly he’s there in my most pensive moments- in the shower. My showers have become a lot longer lately, partly because when I’m there- I’m not really in the shower at all. Sure the water is still soothingly trickling down my body and the warmth is still filling me with a false feeling of hope but my mind is elsewhere. He is forgiving me and hugging me. I can almost feel the warmth of his hug from the warmth of the water. The shower leaves my skin plump, red and wrinkled, glowing with an angry feeling of betrayal. Instead of soothing the water beat at my skin and instead of warm it scalded. But in my desperate attempt to bring back the warmth I’d overdone it. How unlike me. As well as the phantom that stalks my mind there is also the real physical him. Every day I see him it is almost a surprise, the person who I’ve been idealising and spending almost every second with is now unapproachable. I stare with wonder, it never ceases to surprise me. When he walks passes, I get no acknowledgement. A small part of me is left missing. Not the painful, gaping hole I described earlier but just as if someone has grabbed a hole punch and punctured me. To be fair, I haven’t been making eye contact- perhaps I am the one with the hole-punch. Sure it’s only a small hole, but it leaves me even more less whole. So untouchable he remains, but that doesn’t mean unwatchable. I’ve always been cautious, so its from a safe distance that I watch and at safe time intervals. From my occasional glimpses I can manage to jigsaw together a picture, true it’s a pretty crude picture, but its all I’ve got to go by. Its not that I watch him because his physical self lure’s me in, I’ll admit he’s a stunner, but now instead of an aura running around his head it’s a warning sign saying “Don’t go there-pain ahead”. Maybe that aura was only ever an illusion of the sun, maybe he never glowed from within. I remember the way I used to watch him play basketball in the sun. It made his blonde hair shine and glow yellow like I’d always hoped mine did. He’s slim, but not in a bad way. He’s athletic in a fearless way, always eager to get the ball. He’s slightly pale but it only makes his lips look nice and red. His eyes are the type of blue that you don’t notice until the sun catches them. I used to think he wore himself on the outside. He’s got the muso haircut and the sports uniform to show his main passions in life. But all of this is recalled from memory, he doesn’t shine to me anymore, his light dwindles- I only see the glow from behind the shadow of the warning sign. And due to a shallowness formed by a combination of hormones and my shy personality I didn’t look into the troubled expressions like I can now, I thought he was merely shy- like me. But what they represented was something grave and remote- a black hole that I let myself be sucked into. He tried to warn me, but too late- I was too stubborn I let myself get too close. He had no choice but to fling me aside and leave me to make my own way out. Didn’t he?
But now I’m watching him like I’m a lost-relative, watching over him to check if he’s ok. Checking for signs- are his eyes slightly redder than usual? Is it the light or is he paler? He’s laughing? Oh that’s good, now I can laugh too. He’s sad? Oh wow the weather just magically made me feel depressed. I don’t know why I have taken upon myself the role of watching over him. If I do notice he’s upset, I am perhaps the one person in the world who can not do a thing about it without making it worse. It’s taunting really, once again I am setting myself, fully-knowingly, up for disaster. It’s the longing that’s getting to me now as I realise for the first time that I do miss him and there’s nothing I can do about it.
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