We both make speeches about having no friends, but there's a difference between us: you are not serious. This difference makes me uneasy.
You see, though you may have a different house to go to every day, different friends with different arms to encircle you in hugs, we do not all have that same opportunity. This doesn't bother me, though. Usually.
Whenever I manage to slip into your schedule—which means whenever we bump into each other, more accidentally for you than for me—your thumbs tap your phone screen the entire time. I watch them. Taptaptaptaptap. You follow my gaze and explain, "I feel bad when I don't answer everybody right away." I'm not hurt or angry though—text all you would please—I'm only curious. I cannot fathom having so many people that care about me enough to carve time into their day to think of me. My conversations that come without obligation are all furnished by two people. Two. Compared to your hundreds. This doesn't often bother me either.
You have a village around you. I lie on the outskirts, though you like to pretend with me that I'm in the town square. You have never had to be a vagabond, but this is all I've ever known—and if I continued tradition and slipped away into the forest that leads to only God knows where, you would never notice. I suppose this is what bothers me. You are all I have, and you could throw me away like trash, no consequences. What's stopping you?
Ahmed8*
absent *
ᴏɴᴄᴇ-ᴜᴘᴏɴ-ᴀ-ᴍɪᴅsᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ-ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ*
scorpiofriend
Anujsomany
Grungepug
Y0UNGL0V3MURD3R
Lost_Girl_98*
Conscious*
seafoam*
gooddeeds
Dishonored*