I’m the Unknown Wings, for Your Perfect Dreams
Chapter Two: Deep Thoughts Are Equivalent to Paran
Today was the day, and I wasn’t talking about the gym face off of who can scale the rope, which if you ask me is literally human torture, or some godforsaken form of it.
Today wasn’t the day that I was going to finally pronounce a word in Spanish correctly, though I could try.
Today was the day that the letter would leave my hands, and fate would carry it to somewhere probably that will make things a whole heck of a lot better for me, please note my sarcasm.
I packed my messenger bag with everything I would need, needing being a loose term; the only actual thing that was necessary for me was my bag, which had just about everything you would need in it. I carried it everywhere with me; it had band-aids, a lighter, pencils, paper, and my cell phone. Anything and everything, because you never know when something bad would happen, especially if you’re me; particularly if you’re me on this fine day.
I looked at the letter still sitting on my desk from last night, I thought quickly in my head,
‘They’ll be other days I can give to her…err, him, it.’ I thought which only brought up more issues in my mind, ‘What if it’s a guy mediator? What if he thinks I’m a complete looser?’ I thought before correcting myself on how I didn’t mention that I was a girl. Just to be sure I tore through the envelope to read through my letter again. I didn’t mention to my luck that I was a female, but I’m pretty sure my over dramatic sequencing of words gave it away. I repacked the letter into a different envelope. Enclosed with a new email account I made on Yahoo, the username that is. For him/her to contact me incase he/she can’t get a real letter. I made a new one so that if it turned out to be someone who knew me, they wouldn’t know it was me. Always thinking, perhaps a little tiny bit too much.
I want this to work, and I want to cover all the bases this time. I made a promise to myself to do whatever I could to make it work.
However in the back of my mind hung the fact of what would I do to make it work, and will that sabotage the whole thing?
As I packed the rest of the things into my bag and grabbed my jacket and slipped on my shoes, I thought about how this would change had I known who the said peer was. Generally I don’t know a lot of people around the student body to put the name to a face, but I thought more importantly, would it change the outcome of this letter?
When I realized to stop worrying about it was when I put the letter in my bag.
The house was dark; my room was painted a white with a light blue stripe around it. It was a box, and I loved my box. It had a rather large bed, a clean floor, organized closets, made bed, clean desk. Anything you would expect from a hotel would be my bedroom, I’m kind of freakishly obsessed with having my room clean, so I would never have to worry about doing anything when I came home being tired as I normally am.
Other then that, the staircase had pictures of my family lined down the walls which lead down to the main room, different paths lead to the other first floor. It had all the lights off, and everything was silent. I didn’t mind it; at least half of me didn’t mind it. The other half made me think, ‘It’s silent, but the only thing I can hear is my thoughts and my thoughts alone. This made it worse in some cases.
Today wasn’t the day that I was going to finally pronounce a word in Spanish correctly, though I could try.
Today was the day that the letter would leave my hands, and fate would carry it to somewhere probably that will make things a whole heck of a lot better for me, please note my sarcasm.
I packed my messenger bag with everything I would need, needing being a loose term; the only actual thing that was necessary for me was my bag, which had just about everything you would need in it. I carried it everywhere with me; it had band-aids, a lighter, pencils, paper, and my cell phone. Anything and everything, because you never know when something bad would happen, especially if you’re me; particularly if you’re me on this fine day.
I looked at the letter still sitting on my desk from last night, I thought quickly in my head,
‘They’ll be other days I can give to her…err, him, it.’ I thought which only brought up more issues in my mind, ‘What if it’s a guy mediator? What if he thinks I’m a complete looser?’ I thought before correcting myself on how I didn’t mention that I was a girl. Just to be sure I tore through the envelope to read through my letter again. I didn’t mention to my luck that I was a female, but I’m pretty sure my over dramatic sequencing of words gave it away. I repacked the letter into a different envelope. Enclosed with a new email account I made on Yahoo, the username that is. For him/her to contact me incase he/she can’t get a real letter. I made a new one so that if it turned out to be someone who knew me, they wouldn’t know it was me. Always thinking, perhaps a little tiny bit too much.
I want this to work, and I want to cover all the bases this time. I made a promise to myself to do whatever I could to make it work.
However in the back of my mind hung the fact of what would I do to make it work, and will that sabotage the whole thing?
As I packed the rest of the things into my bag and grabbed my jacket and slipped on my shoes, I thought about how this would change had I known who the said peer was. Generally I don’t know a lot of people around the student body to put the name to a face, but I thought more importantly, would it change the outcome of this letter?
When I realized to stop worrying about it was when I put the letter in my bag.
The house was dark; my room was painted a white with a light blue stripe around it. It was a box, and I loved my box. It had a rather large bed, a clean floor, organized closets, made bed, clean desk. Anything you would expect from a hotel would be my bedroom, I’m kind of freakishly obsessed with having my room clean, so I would never have to worry about doing anything when I came home being tired as I normally am.
Other then that, the staircase had pictures of my family lined down the walls which lead down to the main room, different paths lead to the other first floor. It had all the lights off, and everything was silent. I didn’t mind it; at least half of me didn’t mind it. The other half made me think, ‘It’s silent, but the only thing I can hear is my thoughts and my thoughts alone. This made it worse in some cases.