Enigma

The house was quiet; everyone was doing their own thing after dinner. I yawned and stretched my arms, bed soon maybe. I’d finished the homework I had and now there was nothing to occupy my mind. I suppose I could always go on my computer. And do what? What did I have to do on there now that I wasn’t talking to Strider?

What was he doing right now?

Ugh, stop it!

I flipped open the laptop and switched in on. I glanced at my clock as I waited for it to load. What time was it in LA?

No, really, stop it.

I glanced out at the dark sky and my reflection stared back. God, do I really look that tired. I rubbed at the bags under my eyes. Did I look this bad when I was at David’s house? I really hope not.

The computer loaded and I opened Solitaire. I hadn’t played this game on the computer in ages, let alone with real cards. It didn’t take me long to finish the game and I sighed loudly. If I was still talking to Strider then I would have something to do.

I rolled my eyes at my reflection and pushed myself away from the computer. Perhaps I could read a book. I pulled out Jane Eyre and settled back down at my desk. I grabbed my ipod and turned it on. The soft music rolled through my ears as I tried to lose myself in the words.

In my mind’s eye I could see myself wandering for hours through the house, exploring every dark corner, exposing all the dark secrets concealed by locked doors. And by my side was... Strider.

I groaned and shut the book loudly. I sighed as I put in down on the desk. Was there nothing that I could do to distract myself from him? The hollow ache returned and I rubbed my chest almost as if I could make it better. I turned back to my computer and opened Minesweeper. This was a game that required concentration. I frowned as I leaned forwards and started clicking. The little face at the top flinched repeatedly and then died. I quickly began a new game but died at the first click. Who was it that had taught me to play this game? I thought for a few moments. Oh, Strider.

I closed the game and stared at the desktop. Why did Strider have to come into everything that I did? Was there anything that I could do that didn’t involve some sort of connection to him?

Go to hospital. I grimaced. But even there I would think about him. Long hours of doing nothing except tests left me with very little to do except think. David was supposed to be going to hospital for his check-ups soon. Why couldn’t they schedule my check-ups with his? At least that would give me something to do.

I bent over and rested my head on the cool desk. I turned off my ipod and pulled the earphones from my ears. I could hear the whirring of the laptop through the wood. It hummed low and then high, low and high. The smooth transitions were soothing and I closed my eyes as I listened.

The hollow ache in my chest slowly faded into the background until I could almost imagine that it wasn’t even there. I sat up and stared at the computer again. Quickly it came back and I rubbed my chest again. Perhaps it would help if I wrote it down somewhere.

I opened the internet and loaded the site where I usually posted my blogs.

So, haven’t posted on here in a while. But I’m sure that no-one really missed me, no-one really reads these anyway, which I suppose is a good thing for this time. But whatever, if someone reads this it isn’t going to matter, because I highly doubt that anyone who knows me is ever going to read this.

Enough with the rambling.

Anyways, so there is something wrong with me. And there isn’t even a name for it. Take that all you people with diagnosed things, I’m undiagnosed! But then again, maybe it’s a bad thing. If something bad were ever to happen then the doctors (darling things that they are) might not be able to help.

Whatever, I don’t know if I care anymore.

Honestly, I’m not being some angsty teenager. Or maybe I am. I don’t know and I don’t care. But I’m just so sick of everything. Why the hell can’t I stop thinking about this guy? I mean, sure, he was the first friend I ever made, but it isn’t as if I’ve met him or anything. We don’t have some sort of “connection” or anything like that. We were just friends.

Were being the operative word there. Not friends anymore. It was for stupid reasons too. Like the fact that he was always calling my boyfriend gay and kept going on about his girlfriend. Why couldn’t I just get over it and not act like a complete idiot and screw everything up? Why did I just have to step over that tiny little line? I almost wish I had some type of clone that could slap me, or better yet, stop me from doing stupid things in the first place.

Am I rambling again? I think I might be. But I think that might be the best thing at the moment. If I can just ramble and get this all off my chest. Maybe then I can stop thinking about him and all will be good.

Maybe if I just say goodbye to him. I never actually got the chance to say goodbye.

Right, so here it is, though I doubt he'll ever read this. Goodbye Strider. It was nice to know you, but now it’s all over and honest to God I wish it wasn’t. But it is. So goodbye.

Annette.