Post by quilleh on Jan 19, 2005 15:07:31 GMT -8
I can hear the snowflakes, crunching under my favorite pair of black Vans; skater boy shoes. Meagan is beside me, but she doesn't know. She doesn't recognize what I'm thinking.
I like to walk, and I'm dissapointed when I can't go out because it's cold; but nobody asks me why I like to walk. I like to walk because of Him. Simple enough? I think it's more complicated than that.
Okay, I'll explain if you wish. Tonight it is fridgidly cold. Perhaps 10 degrees below zero, and yet, after that stupid meeting, Meagan agreed to join me for my evening stroll around my few blocks. I used to loath walking, until I met him. Him is a boy of my fancy, we'll call him Ned. "Ned" lives a few blocks from me, and on my way downtown, I tend to pass his house. No...I'm not a stalker. It's just /kind of/ on my way; meerly a block out of the way.
It isn't like he doesn't know I exist, I'd even dare to call us friends. All the same, walking by that small brown house lifts my spirits, especially on the days I see him, and he sees me. You know, I think I love him, but I really can't be sure. I bet you know what I mean, people always do.
I'll bleed my tears of ink onto everypage in my notebook until He's in my arms. It is the only place I can know him... It gives me hope, but snatches it away, thinking, I'll only ever know him, in my notebooks. In my footprints in the snow...
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Mmkay, please comment. I wrote this in about 3 seconds, literally. Comments are MOST appreciated.
I like to walk, and I'm dissapointed when I can't go out because it's cold; but nobody asks me why I like to walk. I like to walk because of Him. Simple enough? I think it's more complicated than that.
Okay, I'll explain if you wish. Tonight it is fridgidly cold. Perhaps 10 degrees below zero, and yet, after that stupid meeting, Meagan agreed to join me for my evening stroll around my few blocks. I used to loath walking, until I met him. Him is a boy of my fancy, we'll call him Ned. "Ned" lives a few blocks from me, and on my way downtown, I tend to pass his house. No...I'm not a stalker. It's just /kind of/ on my way; meerly a block out of the way.
It isn't like he doesn't know I exist, I'd even dare to call us friends. All the same, walking by that small brown house lifts my spirits, especially on the days I see him, and he sees me. You know, I think I love him, but I really can't be sure. I bet you know what I mean, people always do.
I'll bleed my tears of ink onto everypage in my notebook until He's in my arms. It is the only place I can know him... It gives me hope, but snatches it away, thinking, I'll only ever know him, in my notebooks. In my footprints in the snow...
_____________________
Mmkay, please comment. I wrote this in about 3 seconds, literally. Comments are MOST appreciated.
