.sometimes i hear crickets

We were in your room amongst m fairy lights that danced along the wall behind your bed. At the foot of it, you hung your head over the edge.

The bulbs cast sparse beams of light across the small and cozy space. Pictures of your family and memories I was never a part of watch over you. The maroon-colored curtains are pulled shut and it’s 1:30AM.

 

In the center of your bedroom, I sat on floor with my legs crossed; and I ran my right index finger over the grainy variations of the floor’s frosty surface with my head a few inches from your own. Also, I had my eyes conveniently levelled with the curves of your chest and following its peaks and falls with a shyly and crudely inquisitive gaze.

Your eyes were straining at the message box which had been waiting for you to send some words into space.

This was your lowest point.

You hated texting and you hated what people talked about:

A new song that needed you to listen, like and share (but never understand).

A new gadget that people who would really need would be too poor to afford

Another blog

Another job hosting a club event.

A friend bailing on your plans for the weekend…

                                 

Now that sucked.

 

Minutes slipped by and you had still not thought of anything to say. Consequently, your phone screen locked which pissed you off so much that you flung it down the side of your leg. To your annoyance, it bounced wildly off the bed, hitting a pillow propped against the bed board under your pictures and fairy lights before hitting the floor. I tried to pick it up but all I did was prove for the hundredth fucking time that I couldn’t touch anything around you. Well maybe not really. I could feel your arm or hold the handle to a door but I couldn’t apply any force to my actions. In a space where we shared matter, mine moved nothing. I couldn’t feel you nor speak to you. A shout or a whisper, it did not matter, you couldn’t hear me. Whether I tapped your shoulder or grabbed your hair. It did not matter.

 I was not there.

But I was and yet, for some inexplicable reason you just couldn’t acknowledge that. Mentally and physically. You were incapable of registering my presence and I hated you for it. I don’t know why but I just did. Moreover, I don’t know how I found myself sitting in the bedroom of a girl who literally didn’t know I existed but it had been a month since I met you and I was still infuriatingly infatuated with the situation I found myself in.

I had fallen in love with you and you didn’t even know I existed.

Like really.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What type of shit was that?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My breakdowns would usually occur after 20 minutes.

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