so

i think its funny i wasnt sure id write in this that much, yet here i am again in the same day.

thank god my creative writing professor mailed me back all my old things from that class.
here's something i wrote last year and posted up on myspace a couple of times, only to delete it after feeling kinda embarrassed for posting it. but i think i will just keep it here..

Are You Okay?





   
   "Are you okay?" he asked, slightly touching my knee.
No, obviously not, I thought as tears formed mascara moats under my eyes. As his explanations became monotone, my eyes drifted out the window; trees serene & still, gutters filling with melancholy rain, falling & lingering like the lump in my throat, "You have to understand that I'm just not ready for..." dirt becoming mud, air becoming crisp & mossy, grays bleeding into the sky. How hideously romantic this is, I thought. Everything around me was dark, yet awake, calm, yet so alive, "We just weren't meant to be.." The window seemed to be protecting me from the rain & his eyes. If I stared harder through it, I could do the same to him; his speech rolling off me like so many droplets trying to seep in. "You're a great girl, but..." The rain fell more rigidly & his voice rose, as if he needed to speak any louder. I could hear everything before he even opened his mouth. His hand felt weak when I held it earlier, his eyes apologetic, his voice mechanical & uninviting. I felt  his love dying while the rest of the world kept breathing.
   I looked at him now, his eyes that I had been so afraid to look into before, mimicking the greens & grays of the storm outside of this truck, his truck. The one that I looked for on the road, even when he was clearly not going to be there, "Believe me, you can only rely on yourself..." I looked back down at my hands  resting & crumbling on my  jeans. I could not look back into his eyes; it was cruel how lovely they could be, cruel how every smile had been caught under those eyelashes. I felt myself becoming as stiff & icy as the glass around me. "You're just too sensitive..." His heart was rough & scabbed; I  had loved him dearly & at the same time never knew who he was at all. He would tell me the world is harsh, as if I were some child who had just touched a hot stove. I felt this suffocating & sinking view he presented to me creeping in & I became more aware of the truck encasing me, containing me, holding me in. How sad & sorry he must think I am, I thought. I began to roll down the window, rain still loyally pounding on the roof. It steadily spilled onto me, spearing through the leather seat & soaking my clothes. It slapped at my already running makeup & drowned out his horribly logical voice. It was him I felt sorry for though, sitting there untouched by the rain, dry & unimpressed.