St. Cloud

alone

On the other side of the city, was the other half of this story. My half of the story.

On the same night of June, my night was the same as the night before. Just like it was the night before that, and the night before that. I was up writing stories about God knows what, just writing and writing and if I wasn't writing, I was thinking about writing.

I was talking to no one, not texting or calling or face timing anyone, because as usual I didn't trust anyone to talk to. No one deserved to know me like I knew myself. Nonetheless, I thoroughly enjoyed being alone. Being alone meant no one to worry about, no one to please, no one to entertain, no problems.

Being alone also meant I could write in peace, about whatever the hell I wanted. I could write about absolutely anything, and no one around me would ever read it. I thought it was great, because what could be better than creating your own little world just for yourself? I could create my own friends, my own boyfriend, my own adventures, my own successes, failures, or anything I could possibly think of. I remember even writing about a boy and blue butterflies once.  

Thus, being alone wasn't a problem.

Yet being alone also meant that when I cried, no one heard me. No one knew.

I guess I liked it that way though, because for the past seventeen years of my life, being brave and tough was a title I was proud to uphold. I'd do anything in my power to not shed a single tear in front of another person. At fifteen I was upset over losing a friend, and I vividly remember biting the inside of my lips so hard they bled. I remember the metallic taste on my tongue, and I remember my eyes burning like fire when I held the tears in them.

But all of that is besides the point.

When Gray was on the other side of the city figuring himself out, I was on this side of the city doing the same thing. Granted, I didn't have marijuana in my pocket or even a car for that matter, but I was lost too. I was on my own, if you know what I mean. The type of person who could handle the world, but if you looked a bit closer, couldn't handle myself.

And since we were on opposite sides of the city, with completely different lifestyles, one would ask what we had to do with each other. We're two completely different souls, and the only way I knew of him was because we went to the same high school. Technically I went to his district high school, because of an academic program they had there. Otherwise, I'd be attending a private high school hating the world more than I already do. 

Again, I know what you're thinking. So what? Two kids go to the same high school. They have completely different stories. They have nothing to do with each other. Big deal.

You're right, yet I'm a firm believer that eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.

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