"Hey loverboy," she says. I don't respond.
A rough draft excerpt from my story, Fictional Truth.
“Hey Loverboy,” she says. I don’t respond. I enjoy ignoring her for a moment after I come out of a day dream.
“Hey. Blake. Snap out of it boy. Time to come back to earth,” she says with her usual tone of pleased annoyance. This time I leave the world inside my head and return to reality. Slowly turning my head to the right, I can see those deep green eyes gazing up. I never get tired of her eyes.
“Come on, you said you’d help me here.”
“Sorry,” I say with a half grin and my best attempt at contrition. I look down to the papers in her lap. Right, math. I was helping her with calculus. She was really very good at math. We were in the same class, but she was two years younger than me after skipping two grades in elementary school.
“This one you just take the derivative of your function and plug in these two values.” I can remember these things effortlessly now, which was a huge accomplishment for someone who doesn’t particularly like math.
“See, this is why I keep you around,” she says, those rosy lips that I so adored pulled into a little smirk. She reaches up and kisses me. She always seems to find an excuse to kiss me. “You can go back to daydreaming now.” Indeed I do, retreating back to the dreamscape inside my head. This time I think back to when I met Clara.
I had just arrived on campus, a bright eyed college freshman. There I was, lost in a sea of more beautiful women than I had ever seen in my life. Small private schools had never been kind to me in that regard. Everything on campus was a wonder. Nobody from my high school had come here and I was very much alone, but I didn’t mind. I had outgrown most of my high school friends long ago. It was long past time for me to expand my horizons.
I found myself standing in front of a massive glass building. I wasn’t past checking my reflection in the glass windows. Had to make sure my hair still looked as good as it did when I arrived. Who knew when I might run into some attractive young lady? Opening the doors I caught a waft of the bookstore smell, unlike anything I expected. At home the bookstores were small, with dusty leather covers that begged to be handled and old people that smelled like coffee. This was completely different. The odor of panicked freshman and newly bound textbooks permeated the air. I decided right then I wouldn’t be spending much time there.
There was a long line extending towards the back of the building. Not knowing better, I assumed it was the line I was supposed to be in and slowly made my way to the rear. This would take forever. I pulled out my phone and started on another game of Angry Birds. I had been killing evil pigs for almost five minutes when I began to feel like I was being watched. Sure enough I glanced up to see a large pair of deep green eyes looking at me.
“You know, some psychologists say that technology is making us less social,” said the girl looking up at me. I couldn’t respond. She had straight black hair pulled behind her in a long ponytail. She had a small, perfectly formed nose with what seemed like a sea of freckles on it. Even more freckles danced on her cheeks. She was several inches shorter than me, maybe 5’9” and had on tight jean shorts and a black tank top that exposed only the most tantalizing amount of cleavage.
“So I’m just starting to feel a little uncomfortable with you undressing me with your eyes like that,” she said with the smirk on her face that I would soon come to know.
“Sorry,” I said, a tiny grin tugging at the corner of my mouth, “You surprised me a bit.”
“I’m Clara. This is the point in conversation where you tell me your name.” I liked her already. She had confidence and wit that was both abrasive and attractive.
“I’m Blake, pleased to meet you.” Damn I was smooth. Almost as smooth as a wagon over rocks. “Are you a freshman too?”
“Yep. Just got here. I don’t think this line is moving.” I really liked the way little dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth even when she frowned slightly.
“It really doesn’t seem to be. At least I have pleasant company,” I said. Oh man I was so smooth! I was really proud of myself right there. It was hard flirting with such a beautiful girl. She seemed to throw me off balance.
“Well, that was the least offensive flirting I've heard all day,” she replied. Good gosh this girl was straightforward. “It’s a good thing you’re cute or I might not have accepted that.” Cute. Okay, I could work with cute. “So you’re in psychology 1000?” she asked.
“Nope, I took that during high school.” I replied. Why would she ask that?
“Well, you’re standing in the psychology book pickup line.” She said with a slightly puzzled look on her face. I definitely was not in psychology.
“Oh, Psychology! I, uh, I thought you said, uh, philanthropy. Nope, I’m definitely in the right line. Okay, that was a lie and I was at least 100% sure philanthropy was not a class. But hey, I was under pressure and I needed an excuse to keep talking to this girl. She looked at me like I was slightly on drugs but moved on without hesitation.
We talked about various meaningless things while the line crept closer to the back of the store. I was constantly mesmerized by the deep green in her eyes. I had always been attracted to green eyes but they were pretty rare to see. When we got to the pickup window, she paid for her book and stepped to the side, watching me. I decided to bow out of buying a several hundred dollar book just so I didn't look like a complete idiot. I comforted myself with the fact that she might think it was funny.
“Soooo. I’m not really in philanthropy. Or psychology. I just didn't want to stop talking to you just yet.” I said with a sheepish grin. Luckily for me, she laughed right there.
“Alright then Mr. Blake, what books do you really need? Maybe we can go stand in line again.” I listed off several books that I needed for classes.
“Calculus. I need that one as well. Come on silly.” She turned her back and started walking. I followed right on her heels, a goofy grin plastered all over my face.
That was my first interaction with Clara. We spent the next two hours gathering all of our books, and at the end I carried her rather large pile back to her dorm room. I was promptly rewarded with her phone number and some cookies that her mom had packed. Normally I’m very pleased by cookies, but the phone number was worth so much more.
“Hey. What about this one?” Clara’s voice comes from beside me. I lean over to look at the paper again.
“This time just take the antiderivative of cosine and solve for x.”
“Oh right. That's the last one.”
“What do you want to do now?” I ask.
“How about we go to your room and see if we can make your roommate uncomfortable enough to leave?” She says with a mischievous grin, bringing those deep green eyes nearer to mine. She always seems to find an excuse to kiss me.
What will become will become of this day and I wake up to find this day's been taken away by the thieves of the night,is this right,
does the night carry on even though it has gone,does the day have no say in its dawning?
It is morning in my head ergo,I am not dead or maybe I could be.
If the night doesn't see me does the day really free me,do I carry the can for the sins of mankind?
I find in illusion a great deal of confusion,a smelting of fantasy,a melting of freedom.
This hit and miss in me really disheartens me and although I keep trying there's something inside me that tells me I'm dying,it's a shame.
There is no fortune or fame for the runners up in a game just the harsh feel of failure,but if the day should return and I am still awake,there's a chance of a part,a starring role in the affairs of my own beating heart,
is it here
do you know
did the day really come and the night really go?
In cahoots with the Pole Star, I map out a route that will make me fortune,the moon makes me a beggar man and the beggars just scowl,
I'll be free soon not out of tune with my peers,not retreating from the advancing of legions of years.
It's all relative or so they say,
and what will become will become of this day.
You will discover me by then, oh yes, I said it.
Not now but then.
"Then", it can be later, tomorrow or maybe never.
Not when you touch me but when you feel me.
Not when you kiss me but when you embrace me.
Not when you talk to me but when you listen to me.
Not when you fuck me but when you make love to me.
Not when you judge me but forgive me.
Not when you try to change me but accept me.
Not when you get to miss me but when you get to need me.
Not when you say I LOVE YOU but when you say I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU.
"Then", it can be later, tomorrow or maybe never.
And I hope that you don't hate me by then.
I want to hug a deer,
don’t you want to hug one?
Not really; the thought
never crossed my mind…
I have never wanted to hug
a wild animal
I just don’t
Why? look at them
their white butts
I like their ears,
like head wings
the way bats flap.
Can you at least understand?
That’s why you can’t write
from my perspective;
you do not listen to me enough
I listen to you;
I listen all the time.
I know more
about you than you
know about me..
I am use to it
…If a deer was nice
I think he would hug me;
I just want friends
that are animals.
Do you think they have
Maybe we can
be their family;
we should be family
who have none.
I bet the deer can sense us.
what animals think about?
Are there thoughts,
or is it all just
I wish they thought about hugging me…
I wonder if there is a baby hiding
between the two
I bet there is a dad somewhere
completely obvious, but we
cannot see him because we
are weak humans.
if a deer breaks a leg?
It gets left behind, which
is sad ‘cause humans break
bones all the time.
What if we left a person
behind?—See you later bro…
What are you writing
down so furiously?
I want to understand.
I'd swim all the oceans for you
I'd break all my bones for you
I'd let all my blood
I'd put my right hand on the bible
But still I'd lie
I'd walk ontop of broken glass
I'd drive a car
I'd make decisions
That are rash
I'd wipe the makeup off my face
Even though that is a disgrace
I'd run a thousand mile race
I'd risk my life
I'd leave this place
I'd rip the wings off a butterfly
Just To see if it would still fly
I'd put a bullet through my head
Just To see if I'd die
I'd pray to the god that may or may not exist
I'd swim in a tank with the fish
I'd take every single risk
I'd lay down in my bed
And think of everything I dread
I'd re live nightmares
That go on in my head
I'd fly to the moon
I'd say "ill be back soon"
But if I had to,
I'd just drift off into the galaxies
Like a balloon
I don't know who you are
But you're reading this,
For one reason or another.
Whether you're halfway across the globe,
We have something in common right now.
And I just wanted to say,
One day you look in the mirror
And you give yourself a thumbs up and say,
"I'm a champion"
And the next day
Looking back at the mirror
You think to yourself that what you see is repulsive
And that what you see is so disappointing
And you're not satisfied
And you start thinking,
"Is this really how people see me?"
Not good enough and never good enough
And you give up
And you stop trying to be that champion you saw yourself as before
When you're a child
You aim for the sky
You cast your nets far and wide
And aim your arrows high
Until the day that you realize that eventually everything falls
Eventually, the arrow will come back
And you don't have the freedom you thought you had
When you were young
And now you're stuck
Constantly looking into that same mirror
Thinking about all the time and money and resources that you don't have to do what you want
Or even the motivation to do what you want
Because now you know
That's not how the world works
follow the night through to day
wait in the usual way
wanting to say something wonderful to you
while lying in wait for the words
I smile as you're breathing your last
while tears brimming up in my eyes
I wanted to say something wonderful
sweetly, just something that gives you
much you're terribly
miss you already
covered by kisses
and hugged and
remembering so many things
but just mostly
just wonderfully loved.
Waiting on wonderful words...
everything has wilted around me
the air has become cold and stiff
and wind cuts deep into my chest
the same way your words have.
i bury my face deeper into the sheets
i tuck my fists in tight above my forehead
as if to plunge the tears from my eye sockets.
my phone is on but i will not respond
i do not know what to say
my thoughts are barren like the world outside
and every last leaf has fallen and decayed
there is no trace of life or the love that bloomed
from spring to summer.
it always surprises me to see
the change in seasons,
and the reason i will not answer you
is the same reason the snow falls
the ponds have frozen over
and the trees are empty.
everything ends in silence and isolation
what makes you think i would be different?
The past is a gaping hole.
You can always try to run from it,
but the more you run,
the more terrible it grows behind you,
The edges nipping at your heels.
Your only chance is to turn around and face it.
You know this.
You believe this.
You say you can do this.
But it's like looking down into the grave of your poor poor soul,
Or a perfectly grooved spiral,
Maybe you know,
or maybe you pretend not to
But at the end that tunnel rests a
hollow point eagerly waiting in its dark chamber,
ready to take you home,
Home, sweet home.