brown eyed boy

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lunch period. im sitting alone. same as yesterday. same as the day before. a brown eyed boy walks towards. i pay no mind, he will keep walking. he stops. he asks be why i have no food. i tell him im not hungry and my stomach growls at the wrong moment. i blush. he laughs.

a paper bag goes down and a sandwich comes out. he offers me half. he smiles. i blush again. my heart races as i extend my hand to accept. i eat lunch for the first time in three years. i have a crush for the first time ever. everything feels good. but im scared. it must be a trap i tell myself. but i keep going anyway with distant hopes of happiness.

he wants to eat lunch with me again. tomorrow. i look forward to tomorrow for the first time. for the first time, tomorrow isnt a regret waiting to be born. for the first time i hate to go home. he isnt there and he makes me smile. i like to smile. i feels strange on my face. but the strangeness is good.

i go back to lunch after the night and morning pass. he is there. the boy with brown eyes. i smile. he laughs. his laugh isnt mocking. i didnt know laughs could be anything other. but this makes me feel good. better. healthy. i bring him food today. i made it. he eats it. he likes it. and i feel good. i blush. he laughs. he sits closer as the time goes by.

it is friday. i hate the weekends now. the brown eyed boy isnt there away from the school. but then he says something. something i ask him to repeat because my ears were lieing to me. he asks me out. this time he blushes. and i laugh. and i yell in glee. yes.

it is saturday. i sit in a diner. it isnt nice. it will be nice. once he gets here. i sit. i sit. i sit. he never shows. i leave after hours passed.

it is sunday. i want to cry but no more tears will come. i get a phone call. someone i know. someone i dont like. they tell me the boy with brown eyes is dead. a car. it hit him. the walls are suddenly a million miles away. time expands into an infinite period in unbearable crushing on my heart. the tears come again. they come and dont stop. everything hurts. everything is wrong.

it is monday. the brown eyed boy isnt there. i made him food. i want him to eat my food. i want him to say he likes it. i want him to laugh at me blushing. i want to laugh at him blushing. i want him to sit closer to me. i want to to ask me out again. i want too scream in acceptance.

he cant. i cant.

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I have a fictional person in my head that I have been thinking about for a number of years, among other people. This is a piece written from her perspective, thus the bad grammar, because she tends to both think and speak in fragmented thoughts.

Be honest. If it is bad, say it is bad. I'd rather be upset than lied to.

I was married to a beautiful girl back in 1995.
Shge died almost in 1996.

I will never love again.

I liked it.

Wow, nice. There's absolutely no real detail about the two characters involved but still manage to make me connect with them. The phone call from "someone I don't like" made me wonder if the boy was just a prank played on a school outcast. Maybe I'm just over thinking that part though.

I think you're right though. I like that things are not over explained so the reader becomes hooked into why she's hungry and the person she doesn't like etc. I think it's kind of Heminwayesque(sorry for nonword ). I think you have a natural talent JakeTamber.

It made me feel like crying. I identified with the story. powerful

The person whom's perspective it was written under has a very, umm... "two dimensional" understanding of the world? She has a very hard time seeing the "branching" aspect of decisions either forwards or backwards and thus everything that happens seems to be totally unrelated to any other event, at least the way she can see it. Therefore, the concept of lying or pranks -short of the very basic direct physical ones- are totally lost to her. If they were lying, she wouldn't know, no matter how obvious it was. She also can't recognize faces, rather recalls people by the way they walk and the way they speak. It is actually rather sad when she comes into my thoughts.

Though, I am not totally sure if any of that made any sense.

Ya, that makes sense. Its kinda how your words came across in my mind, imagery wise. Like it was a video shot entirely in closeups, the brown eyes, the bag, hands holding a sandwich, the phone receiver and a female voice just reciting the words.

I write a bit btw (kinda), so I'm not just spouting compliments. I know what you mean by wanting an honest opinion.