She sits. She's sure the sound of the rain beating against the window is tremendous, but, she cannot hear it over the Evanescence music blaring through her head phones. She flips open her phone 7.23am. "Still dark" She thinks. The weather matched her mood. She becomes aware once again of that dull ache in her chest, it’s been weeks and the pain is still growing worse every day. She reaches into her backpack -she had it since 5th year, it’s beaten, battered, covered in buttons, badges and graffiti- and pulls out her dairy.
She looks around, train's still empty, won't fill up till Wicklow. She put pen to paper and writes:
"The Dark and Dirty Sky weighs heavy. Dampens my already heavy soul. I need to get out from under this darkness. How? Why does she affect me so?
GOD!! She's So Beautiful!!
Her Scent!!
Her Glow!!
Her Voice!!
Why doesn't want me?"
A tear rolls down her cheek. She brushes it away and glances out the window again.
"I hate this.
I hate that she can make feel so horrible, when I only want to love her. Thos other girls don't care..... I do! She's so fragile! And she's already broken! I can put her back together, protect her! She just doesn't see me!! Or she just doesn't want!
I can't tell her! Not now, it’s gone too far, too long. I'll freak her out, scare away!
I love her!
I just wanna hold her hold, kiss her. I’d do anything for one kiss.
Tell her it'll all ok. Just one Kiss!"
She stops writing, snaps the diary shut. Music still blaring!
"I can't take this anymore" She thinks "The pain, it’s just too much!" Rain beats the side of the train. She opens the dairy again.
"The Dirty Skye taunts me! Telling me I'll never have her, that she'll never see"
She closes the diary. Puts it back into her backpack slowly, her eyes are burning now. She flips open her phone 7.32am. She sits on the train, waits for stop. She finally gets off the train. Makes her way to the bathroom, brushes her hair, washes her face, smiles a fake, yet convincing smile at her reflection.
She makes her way to college. Her soul is now even heavier, how bad will the ache be tomorrow?
Copyright (c). Louise Byrne. All Rights Reserved. 2007
