130 mood
He tries not to fall asleep, mainly because he respects the person in front of him enough for that. “I don’t understand myself too” he says, but his mind starts building up the image in font of him, the hue starts growing clearer and he finally makes out the appearance of his professor.
“Maybe it’s what overly dramatic people say— what was it again?” he says and cringes to think of the quote. “You only realize the importance of people once they’re gone? or some bullshit like that” he says before drinking again.
“I would, but he’s gone, so he’s not something worth to keep anymore” he says, smiles so foolishly.
his stomach grumbles lowly; he refuses to drink, and lets his finger dance at the edge of the glass. he would give better counsel on a full stomach.
“well, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be bitter about it,” he says without thought. he’s not a school counsellor; he’s a creative writing teacher. all the best authors are bitter or sad or angry, or all three. and anyway, keeping this all in and drinking his feelings away doesn’t seem to be the healthiest option. “the way i see it, the fault lies within you, too. even a little bit. you shouldn’t have let your friend go, you know.”
finally, he takes a swig. “ugh -- that sentimental bullshit gets on my nerves a little. don’t get me wrong, being optimistic isn’t bad. sometimes, though, it can make you a little bit delusional. you have to own up to your own actions, and try to fix it.”
