I'm sitting here, trying to decide on what I should write about. It's been about ten minutes now, and I'm still sitting here evaluating each thought like it's the writing portion of the ACT. Like, it's going to determine my life, and somehow set the course for what I'm going to with the rest of it. It's rather disgusting. However, I cannot stop doing it. My person is one that is never free from judgement, but I've never been ridiculed, well, to an extent.
I suppose I should just use this as the insertion to my worries.
He's a rather captivating individual. Funny that I've found him just under my fingertips, my hands almost grazed over his curls as I walked through those grown hallways. Regardless, he too comes with a story.
A love affair, as was to be expected... She's dark haired, with electrifying eyes. Eyes that use to be my friend, but have since begun to harbor this indescribable hate for me. She loved him, or as close to love as such as creature can comprehend. She is one that, feels gratification through touch, and such was the death of her. But enough about her, she is not what I came her to type about.
Him. He is, tall and soft spoken, subtle in action and word. His eyes are dark, but not barren, one could argue that they are filled to the brim, and such has taken their colour. Heart broken, as coined as that term may be, there is not better way to describe it.
Shattered, from his head to his toes, he walks on broken bones. She parades through their high school, unashamed, and throwing her stability against him. He walks through her old shoes, wondering if whoever's gratifying her knows that place just below the nape of her neck. Suddenly, he trips over the laces of these shoes.
Well, this too, is a tale for another time.
Back to another point with no end.
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