Nightingale

fourteen

I recommend playing the song once you see the ***. Another longer one so enjoy!

March 21st, 2020

Content.

If I had to describe how I feel in this moment it would be content. My overwhelming fear of being a burden was pushed aside yesterday. I caved in. Now here you lay in my bed sleeping. Your hair is fanned across my pillow. Did you know you talk in your sleep? For once you seem at peace. Although we met not long ago it seems like I could open up to you. You didn't ask questions when I said I didn't want to be alone anymore. You didn't force me to be vulnerable. When I talked, you didn't tell me what I was feeling was wrong. You just listened.

Yes that may be the bare minimum but I don't think I could tell you how much it meant to me. How much it meant to genuinely be listened to. You didn't want anything in return. Not that I have much to offer but if you had asked I would've given you everything I had.

When Harry starts to stir in his sleep I quickly close my journal and set it on my nightstand. He sits up a bit before flopping back down onto the pillow. His head is now facing me, his eyes are still closed and he has the faintest smile painted across his lips. I couldn't sleep last night. I ended up staring at the ceiling all night.

2 weeks until the only place I considered a home will be gone. I've come to the conclusion that it's for the best, my final goodbye. After the meeting with the realtor I hung out in my grandma's bedroom. I cried while sitting on her unmade bed for hours before going into her closet and grabbing a couple of her sweaters that still smelt like her overpowering floral perfume. After I got back home all I wanted was to be numb but as soon as I was about to call my old dealer I could hear her voice telling me she loved me and that only was enough to resist the urge.

That's when I called Harry. All I told him was I didn't want to be alone anymore and he came without another word. We talked until 2 in the morning just sitting on my bed. I found out his favorite color is orange and his favorite food is tacos and pizza.

Our night wasn't all butterflies and rainbows though. He told me about Eric and what he had done. I think I'm more fucked up in the head than before because all I could say was that he should've killed him. I was pissed off at first and scared until I really let it settle in. Eric can't hurt another soul on this planet. I think part of the reason Harry was so open last night was so I wouldn't have to be. I respect his honesty and the fact that he said if I wanted him to leave he would and never come around me again. I considered it but the thing that made me let him stay is when he said that he doesn't like hurting people. When he kills people he's not himself.

I slowly get out of bed trying not to wake Harry, grab my journal again and walk over to the window and open it. It's a cool morning giving it is 5 am. I climb out and sit on the firescape. I bend my knees to my chest and pull my oversized sweatshirt over my bare legs to protect them from the cool breeze. I open my journal and place my pen in between my teeth while I gather my thoughts before putting them on paper.

There's a fine line between good and bad. Who judges whether something is right or wrong? Obviously killing people is wrong but what if it is justified. Same goes for something good though. What if you go and volunteer at a soup kitchen but only because you need community service not because you actually want to give back to your community. It's like yin and yang. There's always some good in bad people. There's always some bad in good people. How do you know when you have crossed that fine line? Can you go back once you've crossed it?

I'm pulled from my writing when a hand touches the shoulder. I turn and see a sleepy eyed Harry. How can someone look so innocent yet has done such horrendous things.