A Lonesome Night of Writing

My parents are away in India. My dad left at the end of January and my mom left about two weeks ago. I’m home alone with my cousin and my dog, and it’s quite nice. But right now, I feel a bit lonely. That sinking feeling of loneliness is gently nagging at me from inside my chest. Part of me wants to talk to someone, but another part of me also wants to be alone. My cousin went to go sleep half an hour ago and my dog accompanied her shortly after. I’m sitting on the couch and, man, I wish I could hug someone right now. It is almost that time of the month for me though, and I tend to get period blues so I’m not entirely surprised at this feeling. But it still sucks. I suppose for now, I will do a little writing tidbit because why not? This is from earlier in the day when I was over at Gamer’s place.

 

“Am I fun to hang out with?” Without realizing, I had blurted out the question that was on my mind while looking up at him mindlessly from his lap.

“Yes,” he responded without looking down at me.

“Really?”

“No, I hang out with you three times a week just to make you feel better,” he said jokingly as he glanced down at me with a smile. I let out a small laugh.

“Okay, good, that’s how it should be,” I replied also jokingly before we both looked back at his monitor. He was sitting cross legged on the bed while I had my head resting on the pillow in his lap. With his laptop out in front of him, he was trying to program but we both were a little too mildly interested in the 90’s gameplay that was playing on YouTube in front of us on his monitor. It was warm in his room and my legs were tangled in his blanket, my arms holding onto his arm loosely. Nearby, my laptop was off in the corner with my phone and a raspberry flavored Airheads wrapper gently fluttering back and forth from the fan in the room. A 4pm Sunday afternoon – it doesn’t get more lazy than this.

“Do you think you’re not fun to hang out with?” I turned my head back up at him when he asked that after a few seconds of silence. His eyes were still glued to the monitor as I repeated that question to myself silently.

“Well, no. It’s just I don’t do much when I’m here so I was wondering what it could be about me that’s fun.”

“I have fun hanging out with you, but if you’re bored here you should let me know.” He looked down at me and I shook my head. That’s not what I meant.

My mind flashed back to the first night we met. After a round of hot chocolate, I met up with him again after his work was over and we went to his place. It was an awkward, incredibly polite meet up now that I compare our current hangouts to that November night in 2015. Upon leaving his place, I recall that moment where I walked away from his apartment down the sidewalk at 10pm. The brisk chill in the wind washing over my cheeks as I looked down at the pavement with my hands digging deep into my pockets to keep warm. Well, that’s that. I had thought to myself, trudging toward the train station. I was so sure that I was never going to see him again. So sure that it was like the other guys I met before him – a hit and run type of meet up with those empty words of “we should hang out some time again” and “I’ll text you.” I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever tell him about how I think about that night periodically from awe and pleasant surprise.

“I do have fun with you. I was just wondering,” I smiled genuinely. As repetitive as it may seem, I did enjoy doing the same things over and over with him. Though, sometimes I do wonder what it is about our hangouts that seem fun to him. It’s normally him doing his own thing while I look on from the sidelines. What do I do that’s fun for him?

“Well, you stop thinking that, you fluff nugget,” he smiled jokingly again and squeezed my cheeks with his one hand, making me pout.

“Okay,” I said in a very nasally voice, causing some chuckles to spurt out of both of us. “So, when are you free next?”

“Whenever. You pick the day.”

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Strangest Memory

Hey guys. I thought of writing this post because this weird memory came up from way back when, and I just had to share it with you guys.

So, in first grade, my dad picked me up from school and I obviously sat in the back seat (I wasn’t a big girl yet :P ). I glanced over, and saw this small book (like literally the size of my palm) next to me. I picked it up, and it was a small picture book that someone had stapled together. Curious, I opened the small page and read it.

In general, it was about a man with a family, and he dies. The grim reaper is there to “pick him up” and his spirit is watching his family cry as his coffin is lowered into the ground. I can’t remember what else happened, but that was the gist. I didn’t think much of it and I left it where I found it. The next day, I never saw it again. I kid you not, I never saw it again and when I asked my parents about it, they didn’t recall seeing anything like that in the car.

It was a wacky memory and wacky day. It was a small, strange moment, but that moment triggered my phobia of death. It’s not that I’m scared of dying and being hit by a car or anything. I’m fine with that (as in I’m not scared of that). What I’m scared of is losing the people I love. I get scared and anxious just thinking/knowing that one day my parents will be gone, my dog will be gone, everyone I love will be gone and I can’t do anything about it. I don’t want them to leave, and I always get nervous when I think about it and I cry and stuff.

I don’t want to talk too much about my phobia here, so I’m going to continue in my other blog because this is quite a depressing topic. I just had to share my wacky moment/memory on here haha. If you’re interested on reading more of my phobia, just hop on over to my other blog which you’ll find on my About page.

Have a great evening everyone!”