As the title indicates, I’m procrastinating.
Current Obsession: KAITO. ❤
Yeah, first thing to know about me: I have OCD. In a way you wouldn’t imagine. I obsess, I compel, and I definitely have a disorder (obsessive collecting disorder, but I’ll explain that some other time.)
SOMETHING TO GET MY WRITING JUICES RUNNING.
Somehow “juices” just sounds so ucky…So I guess WRITING SPARKLERS*? Meh. I’ll think of a better word later.
He lay there, beside the grave of a girl he knew nothing about.
She had watched him from afar. When he glanced back at her, her bright brown eyes lit up in eagerness, in anticipation of something more. She would occasionally brush by him in the hallways on purpose, waiting for an opportunity to get closer. She never got one.
He had noticed her, but always kept quiet. He kept thinking that she would give up sooner or later so he had subtly ignored her. Resting his head upon her gravestone, he felt a shiver run down his spine. It wasn’t from the cold stone rubble that made up the grave. It wasn’t from his hallucination that her ghost was actually there beside her. No, this was something different.
This shiver came from deep within the crevasses of his heart; from a recurring ache that wouldn’t leave him. He felt it again. He ran his fingers over the words engraved on the gravestone, pausing over each letter. He knew what he was feeling, but no force would make him admit it. He stood up, brushing the leaves away from his jacket and worn-down jeans. After taking a final look at the gravestone, he made his way out of the cemetery. The sympathetic crunching of leaves as he departed gave him a hollow feeling.
The feeling he knew so well overwhelmed his conscience. From outside the cemetery, he looked back to where her gravestone was with a grim smile. He didn’t pity her – that he knew with certainty.
“Hey God,” He shouted towards the sky. “How could you let her love someone who doesn’t love her back?”
He ran as fast as he could away from the cemetery, away from the cathedral, and away from her. With clammy hands he opened the door to his house and closed the door with a loud slam. He was scared. He was Catholic. And he had just lied to God.