#literure

In the sun's warmth I see her face The shine of her smile and the glint in her eyes I've only ever once seen a soul and it was through her eyes it happened

In the moon's glow I hear her voice caress my ears in silence All I can hear are fragmented whispers over laying on top of each other It sounds like static

You were so beautiful on the ourside but when skin became as transparent as your head And I can see right through to your being Your core is black and dripping decay Body movie horror

Your voice sounded like angels but angels don't say the things you say You call it intuition and I'll call it an excuse for your issuse Stop lying to your doctor let them see the narcissist in you

"It will. If you don't stop writing that is. You have a style all your own. It's like you're just telling a story around a fire one night. And you're story is good. I mean, really good. It's well written. It's introspective. Makes you question some things. And it's original. It's a new idea."

"Is that why there's red ink all over it?" I said, with a half-smirk. I was making fun of her needless habit of editing every single piece of creative fiction that passed before her. I wasn't sure, but if she stuck with her habits, she could go on to being one of the best editors out there. And I didn't know shit about the actual world of writing, but I knew editors were important.

"Shush. It's just grammatical and spelling errors." She crossed her arms in front of her, and sat forward, resting them on her desk. "Make me a promise?"

I looked at her, this time with my own confusion. "What?"

"Don't stop. And if you ever get anywhere with this, put me in your thank dedication." She cracked a smile at me. Her teeth were extremely white, contrasting against her darker complexion. I wondered for a second how often she bleached her teeth.

"I won't. I don't think I could, even if I wanted to." I meant that. From the moment I was able to write, it never stopped. It's why I did so poorly in high school. I would spend my classes writing shitty high school emo poetry. Every night before bed, I would journal. There were always snippets of story ideas all over my notebooks, and pretty much anything else I could write on. "And if I ever a thank you page, you'll be on the list. You don't need to ask for that. I really would thank you."

"For what?" She asked with curiosity.

"I don't know. Kind words? Support. You're one of the few who didn't make me completely hate this place." I shrugged. That's all I had. Hopefully, it was enough. My writing never came through in how I spoke. I always tripped and stumbled over my words. Or said inappropriate things. Or just totally missed out on normal social cues.

"I'll take it. Good luck, Chris. Keep in touch, please." she said. I hated hearing the disappointment in her voice, but I was doing this for me. I hated this place. I hated the environment. I hated the crowds. The people. All it did was set off my anxiety issues, and I'm beyond fucking tired of having panic attacks hidden in some bathroom, hoping no one comes in to hear me cry and sob until I can catch my breath and breathe again.

"Yeah, you too," I said, standing up and grabbing my backpack. I looked up and saw the time. "Shit, I gotta go. I'm going to miss the bus." I took off, hurriedly out into the hallway, where a crowd of other students was pushing through. It was just past noon. Lunch hour. Fuck. The fastest way to the bus stop was through the cafeteria.

And the cafeteria was packed with a massive crowd of hungry kids grabbing something quick before heading off to the next hour or so of boredom and sleeping in class. Luckily, I'm very small. I'm only 5'7" and I weight 117 lbs, if I'm soaking wet. I could slip through crowds pretty easily. And that's what I intended to do here.

I didn't really know anybody at the UW, other than my professor's and their aides. But, I was well known. Mainly because of how I looked, and the fact that almost ninety percent of anything that came out of my mouth was pure unfiltered sarcasm. It was a coping skill, keeping people from breaking through my shell.

And has I pushed through the crowd, I swear I heard someone shout my name behind me. I turned my head for one second. One simple second, and that's all it took for me to collide into someone, knocking their books and an apple to the floor. I guess I was missing the book. I never did find out who was calling for me, or if anyone actually was.

"I wanted to call the second you drove off, if we're being honest. See! That's what self-sabotage gets you."

"You could have. I don't think I would have minded. There's something about you," Addison said, standing and brushing herself off. I did the same, only making the gray smudge a little bigger. We pushed our way past the cocaine club and headed back to the table. Lily and Adam sat, talking between songs. The second act was almost over, and there seemed to be more people in here than before we had gone out to smoke. Maybe her roommate's band wasn't bad. It brought in a crowd.

I pulled Addison's chair out for her. It came naturally. There was no thought process into it. I saw down and took a sip of my quickly warming beer.

"So maybe this time you'll actually call?" Addison said as the band played their final song.

"Yes. I will. I'm feeling kind of stupid for not calling."

"You should feel stupid." That sarcastic smile.

I mocked a tear dripping from my eye.

"I have to get a new one, this one's warm," I said, standing up. "Do you want another or are you good?" It'd been a long time since I bought another person's drinks the entire night. I wasn't giving her the chance to pay for her own. Once again, it came naturally. I got the drinks quickly and headed back to the table as the final band finished setting up.

They were actually really good Just straight forward rock and roll. Addison ended up dragging me up closer to the stage. I wasn't really that comfortable that close to strangers, but she could have led me through the bowels of hell, and I would've followed her right down into the depths. While smiling.

We were pushed right up to the stage, and Addison danced next to me. I don't know how to dance, and even if I did I don't think it's something I'd enjoy. I'd rather nod my head, probably out of time. We stood there for three songs and I barely noticed the band. She had taken all my attention, as she moved to the music, quickly mastering the beats with her own steps. Her eyes closed as she moved. A smile glued to her face. I couldn't look away. It wasn't possible. She caught me and I didn't look away this time. I just smiled. A very real and very rare type of smile. She went back to dancing and moving.

At the end of the third song, Addison finally pulled me out of the crowd and back to the table. Lily and Adam were just getting up and it looked like they were leaving.

"We're gonna take off," Adam said, confirming. Lily stood next to him, their hands still clasped together. "You cool?" He asked Addison. He held his hand out again for the second handshake. "Nice to meet you." I nodded toward him. That one single move every single guy on this planet will use once. Acknowledgment without saying a word.

"I'll be fine. I'm sure I could find someone to walk me home, if I needed it," she said, looking directly at me. I shrugged and smiled. Of course I'd be glad to walk her home.

"Bye. See you later," Lily said and gave a small wave to Addison.

"See you later. Be safe you two! The worst STI is the one that cries all the time!" Addison shouted.

Lily and Adam both laughed as the stepped out the door and out into the night. A quick look outside said it was raining again.

"So, I'm assuming that you'd have no problem making sure I get home safe, like a proper gentleman?" Her voiced dripped with sarcasm.

"That's me. A regular old dandy," I shouted back. She laughed and grinned at me. I am so glad I came out tonight. So very glad. I would've let this girl go. I would've waited too long to call her and let her walk out of my life. I am so fucking glad I came out tonight.

"You already have an in. You had a date with her." Now he was laughing. Just saying because he could tell it was bugging me.

We argued a bit more about what merits a date and what doesn't. I was still standing on the fact that it wasn't, my I was starting to lose my resolve. Chad was making good points, and I had nothing. At least nothing to back me up. Finally, we agreed to disagree, even though he'd basically gotten into my head. But it was getting really late, or early, depending on what side of sleep you're on. We were on the late side.

After logging off, and grabbed three of the four bottles of medication that sat on my dresser. Out of the three bottles, I'd take nine separate pills. These were my psych meds. And every night, with a bottle of water, I would take my communion. My church came in orange plastic containers.

I lay down in my head. I didn't bother turning off the Christmas lights. I didn't like being in the pitch black. I wasn't scared of the dark. I just didn't like being alone in the dark. And with how much I would wake up throughout the night, I learned to just keep some lights on.

I checked my Facebook one last time before going to bed. At least, I told myself I was only checking it, when in reality, I just happened to click on to Chad's profile. And then on his friends list. . And then on hers little corner of the internet. Even her profile picture of tiny pixels seemed to take my breath away. I hovered over the add friend button. Unsure if I should. I closed my eyes and clicked. When I opened them, the words Friend Request Sent flashed back. I sighed. No turning back now.

I took a deep breath of clean air, followed by menthol flavored posion.

"Fuck it," I said, finally hitting the call button. It rang. And rang. And...

"Hello?" A wonderfully musical voice answered.

"Hey, it's Chris," I said, not knowing what the fuck I was doing. The stutter was back. I had no clue on what I was supposed to do. I was running on pure impulse now.

"Oh, hi! You called! What's up?" She asked.

"Not a whole lot. Finishing up my break. How are you?" I hated that I sounded professional.

"I'm good. I just got home, so good timing."

"Nice."

"So your on break?"

"Yeah. Umm, I was kind of wondering if I could get an answer?" I said.

"Um, sure. What's the question?" She replied, slight confusion in her voice.

"Did you want to maybe go get something to eat sometime? Or something?" I spoke quickly, spitting out most of the sentence as one giant word.

"I didn't answer you? I thought I did." she asked.

"Not that I can remember."

"Oh, sorry. Of course I would."

"Yeah, I definitely would've remembered that." I said, knowing full well she could hear the idiot grin on my face. It's a strange feeling to being sitting on a milk crate, next to dumpsters of rotting vegetables and to be smiling.

"So when would you like this to happen? This is you're date now, buster."

"Buster?" I chuckled softly, "I can't say I've ever been called buster."

I heard her laugh on the air. It was such a perfect sound, even through a shitty cellphone speaker. I adored that sound.

"I'm going to make this even more difficult. I'm vegan," she said, laughing like a villain in an old cartoon from the 50's.

"Well, that's good to know. So, my schedule is pretty packed, but I am off Tuesdays and Sundays." I hoped she'd pick Tuesday. I wanted to see her again.

"Let's shoot for Sunday." I'll take what I can get.

"Awesome, and now it's time for my first red flag. I don't drive. At all."

"Oh, is there a reason?"

"I get really bad anxiety behind the wheel and it's just safer for me and everyone else if I don't drive. I'd prefer not to be an accident." All because of an accident I was in that crushed my ankle. I wasn't even driving then.

"That's fine. I can understand that. And I can drive, so that'll work. So how about four on Sunday then?"

"That works great." I tossed my cigarette into an empty soda can. "But my break is over, so i've got to get inside.

"You know, you don't have to wait to talk to me until Sunday, right? You can message or call. I really don't mind. Maybe when you have more time?" I knew I was oblivious and awful at this, but I know what sound of hope is. Almost alien in the quiet softness it hangs on words.

"It's always easier after the first time, isn't it?" I said quickly. My head was a combination of embarrassment that I shouldn't have, an ecstatic joy, and the quiet clawing of anxiety, crawling up my spine.

"Good way to think about it."

"I'll talk to you later," I said, and hung up. I don't like goodbye.

"You had been talking about that for quite some time." She was looking directly into my eyes. It felt a little uncomfortable, but that was alright. Eye contact has freaked me out for the past few years. It's intimidating. "What made you finally bite the bullet?"

"I had enough. I couldn't do one more day. I hated it so much. I hated everything about it. So for my own mental health, I ended my education."

"How did that feel? To know it was over." Sarah's eyes watched for my body language.

"Relief. And it was wonderful," I replied.

"That's good. There wasn't any shame in it?"

"Nope. Not in the slightest. Still nothing."

"That's great. And you didn't do it on impulse. That's a big thing. You planned it out and followed through. Now let's get back to the girl you met." She flipped a page up and in the space between the board and the pad.

"Ok. So anyway, I literally ran into her. Knocked her books down. Knock an apple down. And then I actually looked at her, and I had to try."

"Try what?" Sarah interrupted me.

"Asking to hang out. Three years. And there were plenty of chances there, but no. Three years and a random encounter is all it took."

"What made you decide to break your streak?"

"She was gorgeous. And I really felt like I needed to. There was this voice that said I had too, and I listened. I had too. I had to at least try, you know."

She nodded at me. And scribbled.

"So I asked her for coffee, she said yes. I ran home and then met her back at the campus. She asked if I'd be cool getting something stronger..."

"Two questions. Why'd you go back home and what do you mean by something stronger," she said, interrupting me again. Which was fine, otherwise I'd spout out as quickly and direct as possible. This way, she stopped it, and forced me to constantly stop and go. It'd make my mouth slow down and my brain to catch up.

"I went home to shower. Change. Kill time. And like a drink. A beer to be exact," I said.

"Oh ok. That makes sense."

"We went to this bar, The Uptowner, had two beers each and she left. I got her number at the end, so that was cool."

"You had two beers and did what, just talked?" Scribble, scribble, scribble.

"Yeah. It was fun."

"So what was the reason you asked to hang out? That's quite out of character for you."

"I don't know. Just had a gut feeling to not let that pass by, I guess." I shrugged. It wasn't something I had thought about really. But now that she brought it up again, why did I? I couldn't remember what the actual reason was why I knew I had to at least try. I felt like she'd asked that question a couple times now, in different words. She did sometimes, because eventually my resolve would break, and I'd actually spit out a truth even I didn't really know. Like I said, she knew how to work me. How to get me to open up. Every time.

"Well, I think it's a definite step up in your progress. Maybe you're finally allowing someone new in." I could hear the pen scribbling against the paper. The clock ticked, and I could hear that too. Everything seemed very, very loud. The idea of letting someone inside absolutely terrified me. There weren't many that had gotten passed the very carefully crafted shell I wore. Chad was able to get grandfathered in, being my best friend, before and after.

"I don't know about that. I mean, the thought of it alone bugs me," I said, rubbing my arms, as if I'd just stepped into a cold breeze off the lake.

"I ran over her trying to catch a bus. We talked. We hung out. We hang out. We talk. And her name is Addison. What else do you want to know?" I downed the rest of my beer. Alcohol is a wonderful confidence boost, at least for awhile.

The place was suddenly hit by the very loud DJ starting his turntables. Star Fucking Hipsters "Two Cups Of Tea" started it's intro. A group of hipster looking people cheered. My guess is they were friends of this punk DJ.

"I'm not going to get anything out of you, am I?" Alana said.

"Nope. You'll need a lot more beer." I grinned at her.

"That's a pretty manageable request." Chad said out of nowhere.

"I don't need any chatter from the fucking Peanut Gallery." I snapped.

"I think I know an Addison from my anatomy class." Emma squeaked out. My first thought was why does a Film Studies student have an anatomy class. But I guess there's been weirder combinations. Alana snapped her attention to Emma pretty quickly.

"Oh, do tell," she said, crossing her legs and sitting all prim and proper. "Chris? Is this the secret Addison?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know what classes she's in." I was pretty sure she would be in an anatomy class for the whole funeral sciences thing. But I wasn't going to say shit. Not only was it uncomfortable, it felt weird for being a topic of discussion. I know they were just being my friends, but it still seemed odd that my surprising romantic interests are such a loved topic with my friends.

"She's really pretty, if it's the same girl." Sure, Emma is silent until she can add to this friendly ridicule. I was positive it was one and the same. I doubted there are that many girl's named Addison wandering around the UW.

"How do you not know what classes she's in?" Alana questioned, filling her cup. A new loud punk song I didn't know was playing. Someone laughed loudly over by the bar. The clack of pool balls rang around the room. An orchestra of the drunk.

I looked at her and shrugged.

"Does she have a big tattoo on her arm?" Chad asked. The fucker knew what she looked like. I was being attacked now from all sides. I poured the last of the pitcher into my cup, and downed most of that in one long swallow. I scowled at him. He grinned. Fucker.

"Yeah, a really detailed one of vines and flowers and skulls." Emma said. Both Alana and Chad looked at me expectantly. I gave Chad the finger. He knew the answer.

"That's her." I said, defeated. This wasn't a fair fight. "Why is my love life so fucking entertaining to you guys?"

"Because we watched you turn away from every single chance you had for years. I mean, you had Katt basically in love with you and you walked away. That girl would've done anything for you. Fucking anything. And you liked her! You told both me and Chad you liked her." Alana said. Chad grinned that shit-eating grin and grabbed the plastic pitcher. Next one was on him.

"So?"

"We've watched you spend the last, what, three years? Four years? It doesn't matter. We watched you actively stay out of any real attached relationship because of the risk. Now you're here in Milwaukee and some how, a girl asked you out..."

"I asked her out." I said. I still felt a little bit of pride about that.

"That just adds to my point why this is so downright interesting. You, the guy who wouldn't even let himself form a crush, asked a girl out. She's got to be something special." Fuck Alana and her logic. I couldn't say anything. She was right. I just didn't see it that way. Me actively pursuing a relationship was an ultra rarity.