exist loudly.

Chapter 2

Talking to people is not something I'm good at. It is not that I don't like to talk to people. Being with a friend and talking about how your day was is surprisingly calming and with a cup of tea it has potential for a great afternoon. I guess it's more like the approach that is the difficult part about this whole thing. Just the trouble of having to find the right words to be liked or to at least please the person you want to befriend sounds just as stressful as cramming vocabulary into your brain the moment the teacher is passing out the exams. And in the end a lot of things that people say out loud don't really need to be said. I mean I know that the weather has been bad or good or has changed so much over the last weeks. Okay it is true that I might not know about your new job or what you are doing here or why you have been exhausted in the last days, but even if I won't have forgotten it by the next day the information is not necessary for my ongoing life, isn't it? Which could also lead to the question why we are even conversing with each other. Is it to feel less lonely? To express yourself? To share information or to get approval? To show people that you are leading a great life or to get pity from them?

Well most of the time I guess I just don't know what to say. And better say effortlessly nothing than something unnecessary or dumb.

After my unpleasant encounter with Abigail and buying all the things I needed - including the almond milk - I was heading to the next park just a few minutes away. The afternoon sun was shining through the trees on the pathways of the city leaving colorful light patches on the pavement and creating beautiful pieces of art on the streets. Looking back I never really noticed the trees next to the street lamps and how broad the streets actually were, in this part of the city.
Getting near to the park I noticed all kinds of different people passing me, without taking my eyes off the light patches on the concrete.
Two women talking to each other about how unfaithful Ernest has been in the last years.
A guy jogging with his headphones in.
A business woman click-clacking down the way with her black heels.
A boy riding his bike
Another teenager being on the phone with what appeared to be his lover.
Sometimes I could feel their eyes on me but there was nothing more to it and without noticing I arrived at the park just when the golden hour set in.
I sat down at the roots of the next tree, which was standing in a rather quiet area of the park and searched in my bag for a few moments until I pulled out a book .

Reading was never really a hobby or anything like that. I mean I really have loved books throughout my whole life and it was hard to accept that there were people who didn't enjoy to immerse themselves in other worlds full of different emotions, stories, characters or even languages and cultures. Just being able to read so intensly that I forget everything around me was my favourite moment because that was the actual moment I would disappear from this world for just a second, just a moment I would be somewhere else. Somewhere where dreams would come true. Where adventures were just waiting to be found and everything had something magical in it.
Some people say they escape reality by reading books but I think I just like to escape my own mind by filling it with beautiful words and hundreds of universes. Books also teach me a lot about how to act in different situations. What to say to people at certain times or what to avoid when being in a social situation.
But books wouldn't teach you everything now, would they?

I must have read for a good amount of time before being interrupted bei something hairy rubbing against my leg. The sun had already disappeared behind the city and it was getting more difficult by each second to identify the letters of the book. Looking down a young dog, just a bit bigger than a puppy was meeting my eyes with big excitement. I was definetly startled but enchanted by the cute buttoned eyes and the shiny yellowish fur and its head that reminded me of a shiba just in a fluffier and smaller version.
Should I pet him? Maybe the owner doesn't want me to pet him... or the dog doesn't like to be pet by strangers. But he approached me so it should be okay... shouldn't it? Just before I came to a conclusion the older lady who was holding the dog's leash reached the tree which was giving me shelter and petted the little fluffy Shiba.

"Would you like to pet him?"

I needed a moment to realize she was talking to me and nodded silently.
Its fur was indeed as fluffy as it appeared to be and he waved his tail in excitement.
It felt like something in my mind lighted up and I smiled while enjoying the feeling of the fur between my fingers.

In the evening while I was laying in bed I wondered why I didn't thank the old lady for letting me pet her dog.