Thursday, February 23, 2012

Happiness is an ill attempt at self satisfaction-I die a little inside each day...(part 4)

Half way through the day I am out to lunch, but I find it more comforting to stay in and marvel at the emptiness inside. I look across my desk and a thought passes my mind that maybe I should clean myself up, in a weird attempt that maybe it will do some good. As I begin to organize my papers and such I see out of the corner of my eye that gail still sits at her desk just like me eating her lunch. Her eyes graze across mine and it reveals a slight smile that makes me wonder what quite is going on. Was she smiling at me or the notion that I am busy scrubbing my desk clean. As I do find myself doing ridiculous things each day seeing that I found myself in the bathroom combing my hair in front of the mirror just now. I go about this almost everyday in a ill attempt at nothing else but stupidity. Back at my desk I finish up cleaning, organizing and making everything pine fresh. I sit down quietly as only a few stragglers are still making there way around the office, usually the ones who started early or eat here somewhat like me. So sitting here quietly, finishing up my lunch, while trying to look my best periodically looking over to see if she might notice. And the worlds a messed up place I might say so myself. How awkward it is or making it do be to do something as simple as walk over and ask her out to a drink of some sorts. And there might as well be two walls a country and the deepest ocean between us, and with that thought the rest of civilization. Like a mother that gives her child up for adoption, unwanted and unrecognized. Society it seems has a blind eye. But It could be worse, at least I am not on the street. I am not at all a personable person, never knew how to approach others and make friends. The length of my hair makes people think I might be dirty or some tree hugging hippie. I don't know, either or I have succumbed to my fate a few years ago, but with a inkling of hope rising up out of me every now and then. Deep down though all I really want/need is someone by my side to wake up to each morning. It gets lonely at night when your heart is only but one half of a full heart. But enough already of that. For the rest of the day up until my last break I am nervous/paranoid to get up and do anything. This time I get up and head on downstairs to the streets of man across the road to this little coffee shop. I usually don't drink coffee this late in the day but I feel tired, bored, and my legs are sore from sitting so long. Inside I stand in line not really paying to much attention to my surroundings. I order a regular coffee and a pastry and make an attempt to find a seat. But in my surprise it all seems to be taken, except this little two seat table in the back left by the window. The window faces the back alley with this giant weird mural of a blackened cityscape with the red of the sky burrowing over it. A faint figure in white towers over with arms outstretched almost hugging the city in what appears to be some kind of condolence. A prediction of what may come perhaps, or just a overzealous religious man who takes the bible a little to literal. And at that I can feel a presence watching over me as I just than hear this voice call out, "excuse me." I look up as my jaw almost bumps itself upon the table, its gail the girl from the office. She asks me if she can sit down as all the tables are now taken. I tell her it would be my pleasure as my hands can't stop from shaking. I manage to painstakingly get out a how are you doing today, that must have felt awkward and a little creepy as it surpassed the table and met her ears. She looked at me and gave a quiet yet quick okay. I guess maybe she doesn't just like talking, or maybe its me. A five minute pause passes by and I can hear all the words that make up the conversations from the people that surround me. They all move around the room and finally coalese and join each other to make phrases and such that don't make really any sense. Finally I give out a slow sigh and tell her that if she doesn't want to talk it doesn't bother me. She smiles softly and says that that isn't the case," i have never been the one for words". I know what you mean, I have always had trouble meeting people so I have just learned over the years to keep my mouth shut. I tell her this as I try as I might to not to stare. For the rest of the time we just sit there quietly enjoying our coffee and whatnot. And Its oddly comforting, as if we have known each other for years and are quite alright with some periods of silence. And my time here is almost done, as the shop slowly empties into the streets and we all wander our way back to work.

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