Dear Neveah,

13. Dear Neveah

It matters not how long we live, but how.
~ Hans Christian Anderson.

Dear Neveah,

Life is full of surprises, ain't so? More like unanswered questions and wishes to never have witnessed things. As a result of another sleepless night, I'm sitting here writing another letter to tell how of how much an infuriating jerk he is.

I've always wondered how some people enjoy inflicting pain on themselves and not care about anyone that loves them. Why don't people feel the urge to protect themselves? Is there a quote concerning it I've not heard of that pain is sweet and needs to be felt every second even though it pierces and slashes you to your worst? It's confusing yet a mystery I need to find.

Today, unlike any other day, I decided to arrange my locker because it's embarrassing when I open it and all my books fall out crashing down onto my toes. But it unravels more mystery. One I won't be able to find the solution to but I feel like it's the start or the solution of something.

Hope you forgive me when you ever find out the truth— what was that supposed to mean? In the middle of my literature book, the paper fell out with a neatly scribbled handwriting but isn't there a mystery behind the exclusively impressive font?

In the past few weeks, I studied Lucas as if he's a map for geographers and I noticed how he likes to write in a cursive font which isn't as nice as you'd expect. It's a little messy and doesn't straighten out on the lines as it should so I highly doubted it'll be from him. I'm not close to anyone else from school except the Hellos and Hi's from kind students.

It's the second day he hasn't shown up and the guilt inside me keeps bubbling up but it does not in any circumstance outweigh the urge in me to find out what he's hiding. It might not be me, what if he's in the middle of serious business that no one should know about? Thinking about it brings more questions to my head. Do his parents approve of this life he's living? Living in the illusion of his shadow so he can hide from the downturns of the earth.

I knew I couldn't drive back home with a clear fogged up mind so I decided to promenade around the park a little to calm myself.

Calm myself with the sight of kids playing with hoops and laughing at meaningless things, chasing each other, a rush of adrenaline coursing through their excited veins. Happy smiles working their ways on their little lips as it'll never fade but isn't that an illusion also?

It's scary. Scary that those smiles will soon turn into smiles to conceal pain and hurt. Smiles to hide all the questions that want to burst out of your lips. It's scary how a simple smile can convey lots of messages.

He didn't show up at school, yet showed in places I never thought of. Places that reeled more questions but leaves me very little time to comprehend.

From a distance, I saw him. Kissing the foreheads of little kids making a small crowd around him. I didn't see his face but I could imagine the smile on his face. The genuine smile the kids passed on to him. The happiness leaking from his smiles. Maybe happiness is contagious, but why doesn't it get to me?

Standing a few feet away, I scrutinized him, his arm moved closer to his face and he peered into the black watch clasped firmly around his wrist and lifts his head, pushing his hands into his pockets and walked away from the kids who kept following him.

Taking slow long strides, I crept up few feet behind him as I followed him. Thankfully, my black leather jacket helped protect myself from the night cold. Once he was sure no one was following him, he continued to amble towards the empty parts of the town.

With my penknife and pepper spray well nestled in the pockets of my jacket, I took every bend and turn he took, just to find some answers to some of the questions in my head. For a loner, it's very necessary to have my penknife and pepper spray with me at all times. You don't know when danger strikes, they say.