I close my eyes, but not simultaneously as if the right side of my body has gotten the signal just a millisecond later. I like it when that happens, it makes me look a little bit tired, a little bit done with everything. The people around seem to be laughing and I can hear myself talking to them, but I cannot understand a word I am saying. Sometimes parties are the worst place to be, especially when you are sober. That is never a cool thing to admit, is it? Our society has integrated alcohol so deeply into our rules that apparently we need to intoxicate ourselves in order to have fun at party. I hear some people speaking to me, but their speech has become filled with beer and it is very uncomfortable to listen to. I have sworn to myself that I am not getting that drunk again, for at least a month, not after… I think it is time for me to leave this party, there are no inspiring people to meet her, no cute boys I see here, just people whose breaths will become worse and worse as the night turns into morning. I sneak out of the backdoor without saying a word to anyone and get into my car. It feels as if I am not allowed to exist, as if the world just does not seem to have space for me, so it lets me live, but does not let me experience anything. I need to stop believing in things like that, life is what I make of it and I making very little of it. I used to be so hungry for everything, but today my eyes can’t even close at the same time. Blinking seems too much effort and I like it! I am not getting drunk today, I am most certainly not getting drunk alone. Life feels flat, there is no reason to drink alone. I often wish I would get my heart broken, well I wish there would be someone there to break my heart, but if that would happen I would at least be living. I would know that I would be alive, because I would be experiencing things. I should go more out of my comfort zone I guess, but I don’t really know how. Talk to people, right? Parties seem to make me feel as if I am on a meat market and again I promised that I wouldn’t be drunk anymore. I guess it is about confidence, right? It is about just going up to someone and making the conversation interesting, but… I think I am just lazy, that has always been the answer. I seem to not care enough, how can I care so little? I close the door behind me as I enter the house I was born in. My parents did not change a thing, my room still looks the same and I can almost hear my sixteen year old self screaming at me for not ‘following my dream’. I have recently been reading about realism, I think my sixteen year old self would have enjoyed that. No, actually she would have thought it would be bullshit, but then again my sixteen year old self had no real clue what money entails and what taxes are and how expensive everything is. I don’t mean to be cynical, I really enjoy my life overall, but it all feels a little beige. My phone lights up and I see that Belle is calling, I answer.

“What is up, love?”

“Nothing much”, I smile, I love her.

We talk for a little while and she instantly puts me in a good mood. I let myself fall onto the bed and fall asleep quickly.

The sun wakes me up and I hate myself for not changing in more comfortable clothes yesterday night. Did I drink? No I did not? Why do I feel like I drank something? I throw a dress on and walk downstairs, open the door and check if the newspaper has been delivered. I look over to the neighbours when all of a sudden I see there: Ethan. My childhood best friend. We look at each other. What are the odds that we are both visiting our hometown at the same time. We smile at each other, the last time I saw him was ten years ago, long before puberty. I cannot believe he is standing here, what is he doing here? Is he my parents neighbour? I walk up to him, he smiles and I follow his example.

I look at him, eagerly waiting for something. I am not quite sure what it is, but every time I look at Con, I know that I want him to catch me watching. I am quietly observing in order to learn more about him. He is hard to read, although I understand his personality. If I were to describe Con, I could, that is not the hard part. Describing people always comes easy to me, I have a knack for knowing how people are strung together. What is he thinking though? Does he know that I am staring at him as much as I can without making it weird? Does Con suspect anything, did I give away too much already? My hands are sweaty so when he reaches for a high five, maybe even a possible handshake, I just touch his hand briefly, too afraid that he will feel my clammy hand. I am too afraid to let him know anything. I am too afraid of his judgement, too afraid of anyone’s judgement. Why can’t I be better? Why can’t I be different? Why can’t my hands be dry at all times? I want to hold his hand, I want to hug him for eternity, I want to kiss him and let my hands go through his hair. My words are still silent and my eyes still big. My mouth widens and I smile, giggle at his words, but still stay silent. I am too afraid that some words will come out and that they will give everything away, ruin everything. All of my feelings need to be secret, because I cannot be rejected, I will not survive a rejection, not Con’s, at least. I look at him, still eagerly waiting for something, but for what? What is there that he can do? My eyes follow his movements fastidiously. I feel like I am obsessed, like some sort of creep. Why? Con is a plain average, normal guy, why do I have this need to get his attention? Why do I want to talk to him so badly? “I know that you are watching him”, my boyfriend of two years says. I, quickly, let my eyes drop to the ground and reach for Benjamin’s hand. I can still feel his whisper, and with it his warm breath, in my neck. We need to break up, everyone knows that we are done, but we are both too afraid to be alone, so we stay together. Perhaps we are even lonelier as couple then apart, I often think. How long am I able to keep up with this? Benjamin lets go of my hand, he doesn’t like it when they are sweaty, who does? “Bonnie”, he whispers again, “we can’t keep doing this.” Apparently this party is the right place to break up. I break eye contact with the floor and say “what”, in a sharp tone. Benjamin did not expect me to be this aggressive and his eyes fill with fear for a millisecond. “We need to break up.” “Fine”, I say while still using the same tone. I don’t know why I am being so mean to him, he has done nothing wrong. He has been a lovely boyfriend. “Well, this is it then.” “Can we not do this here?” How do I get rid of this tone? “Alright, so you want to pretend to be together for another night?” I don’t want to, I want Benjamin to leave, I want him to leave without having to break up. I want Con’s arms around me. I feel like a teenage girl that is desperate for attention. “Fine Bonnie, we’ll talk tomorrow.” “Yes”, I say, softer now. Benjamin touches my hand briefly and walks away. I look at Con again, eagerly waiting for something, but for what, for what, for what?

“When the day comes that rivers have turned into sand and the Netherlands can stop building dykes, that is the moment I will stop talking.” I smile after I say those words, trying to come across as friendly. He does not say anything else, he just looks at me, his big blue eyes opened widely, trying to come up with some response but failing, leaving him silently staring at me. I do not look back, that would ruin the moment, I look at him as he looks at me, trying not to laugh at his surprised face. “Alright then.” That is all he says while he stands up and grabs his bag. “Can I walk with you to your car?” “Do you really want to, because, well, you won’t shut up and I could really use some silence now.” “I am just going to walk with you to your car.” His face turns to mine and looks at me again with these enormous dark-blue eyes. They are extremely pretty, but you have to look a bit longer to notice that. I do notice it, since he has been staring at me the past ten minutes. His brain is trying to say some words and I can almost feel him going through his vocabulary. It is frankly painful to watch him. “Alright then”, he says again. “You’re not so good with words are you?” “Excuse me?” “You just said ‘alright then’ twice.” “Did I?” “Yes, you did.” “I guess you leave me speechless. Not that I could have a chance to say something.” He mutters his last sentence, but I do hear him and I look up to him with an annoyed look. “Oh come on, you are not going to tell me that this bothers you?” “It does.” “If you really want me to shut up, I will, but I just don’t think you would say anything more interesting.” “Great attitude you have there.” “Alright, here is your car, get in, we’ll talk tomorrow.” “You will talk tomorrow.” “Come on.” He smiles softly, leaving a dimple in his right cheek. I follow his lead, smile at him and close his car door delicately. “See you tomorrow Brayden.” “See you tomorrow Leah.” I step back as he drives away and I slowly walk towards my own car. “Leah Kyzal?” It is a low and deep voice, the voice of man. He must be entering his thirties, at least that is what he sounds like. It is an unfamiliar one and I must say I am confused. I turn around and look into the eyes of, as I guessed, a men entering his thirties. He is wearing a blue shirt and black trousers. His appearance is well put together, yet he looks casual. “Yes?” His black curls  aren’t grey but that could not be the case a whole lot longer. He looks tired, yet full of life. I am guessing he works in an office and for some reason I am intrigued as to who this man is. “Hello miss Kyzal, my name is Caleb Dullen and I am a lawyer at Gollinfer, I don’t know if you’ve heard of them.” “Yes I have, my  brother works there.” “Oh really, what is his name?” “Tobias Coster. We use different surnames, it is a long story.”  “Oh, Tobias is your brother! Who would’ve guessed!” “Well I would actually.” Caleb starts to laugh and I start to get a little annoyed because of his slowness to come to the point. “Sorry, why do you know my name and what do you want?” “Well I know your name because you were on television.” “Right, I forgot about that.” “And I am talking to you because I…. To be honest I don’t really know. I saw you and shouted your name and I thought you wouldn’t hear it but you did so now I am kind of screwed, I am sorry.” “That’s quite alright. I always like to meet new people. Gets a bit creepy when the ‘new people’ know your name already.” I laugh and Caleb does the same. He seems nice, a guy who could never harm a fly. “You know what Caleb, let’s start over. I will give you my number and then you can call me.” “Sure, thank you very much Leah!” “No problem.” “Just one thing, I just want to say that I thought your thoughts seemed very interesting and smart on television and it is lovely to meet you and have your phone number.” I start to laugh, he is very sweet, also kind of awkward, but in a good way. “Thank you Caleb, call me.” “Wait, one more thing, what is it that you do?” “I am an information security analyst. I’ll tell you all about it another time, I really have to go!” “Alright, I will call you!” “You most certainly will!”

I am sitting on my ridiculously comfortable couch, watching some television. My skin has Goosebumps all over  and I am extremely cold. I am feeling uneasy, as if something terrible could happen at any moment. My house is dark and empty, which does not help to reassure me that everything is fine. I know it is, I always do this to myself, I am twenty-eight and still afraid of the dark. My teeth clench and I pause the programme I am watching, as I am unable to concentrate with the screaming darkness that is surrounding me. My trembling hands switch every light near me on, so my room is as bright as possible. With a somewhat more comfortable feeling about this room, walk I back to my couch and sit down. However, I still do not feel reassured so I decide it is better to go to sleep. Tonight feels strange, as if a burglar will break into my house and kill me. I am a logical person, I am good with numbers, I am realistic and often see things from a logical point of view, but when it comes to my fear, there is no logic to be found. My hand grab my wineglass and I take a big gulp. The alcohol burns in my throat, it feels good, I like this kind of pain. In front of me is a phone number I am supposed to call, but I won’t, because I don’t want to. I don’t want to be confronted with my feelings, with my non-functioning brain and I will if I call that number. My hands tremble as I pick the piece of paper up. Next to me is my phone and I know I should type in that number, but I am just too afraid to. So I shove the piece of paper away, under a big pile of letters from my mom and other things I do not want to deal with right now. I let my body fall into my couch and try to enjoy the silence and peace of my house.

His face had the shape of a moon, even the colour of it. He was extremely pale and it almost seemed like the grey colour you see when your eyes follow the bright moon surrounded by darkness at night. The green and yellow colour of his eyes were therefore extra noticeable. It was a remarkable eye colour, it had dots and dashes of yellow through the dark green canvas. His nose was pointy, as was his jaw. It was a strange combination of features, making a weird looking face. One could imagine that some would find him pretty, but he wasn’t the average good looking boy. She had brown hair cut short just below her ears. Her massive forehead was hidden by the bangs, falling over it. She however pushed them frequently to the right side so they wouldn’t annoy her. Her round cheeks were always red making them look like tiny apples on her face. Her big mouth was filled with straight teeth which she showed all the time as she was always giggling and smiling about something. Rose was likeable so it wasn’t weird that Rooth did. He never really said anything, he just looked at Rose silently and tried to come up with words to say. Rose was rather fascinated by Rooth but she did not know how to talk to him as he was always so silent. Her eyes were a hazel colour and it seemed as if they were always shimmering with joy. She was a quirky, well mouthed and kind girl. So it almost never happened that she didn’t know how to talk to someone. With Rooth however, she was clueless. Rose had so much energy all the time and never stopped talking, so she never noticed it if Rooth looked at her. He seemed to be a ghost. She did however, notice him. She had studied his face when she wasn’t busy with herself. When her energy had boiled down she caught herself looking at him. Trying to understand the person behind these remarkable eyes. She wanted to become friends with him, but that didn’t mean a lot, because she wanted to be friends with everyone. He wanted to be friends with her and that did mean a lot. Rooth didn’t have friends. He was too shy and too tired to talk to people, his energy level was so low that he just minded himself and even that was sometimes too much. But he wanted to get to know Rose. There was just something about her that no one else had. He knew that a lot of boys saw that too, but he also knew that Rose wouldn’t choose just a boy. Even though Rooth had no friends whatsoever and wasn’t the prettiest boy, he was confident, sometimes a bit arrogant even. He knew he was something special and that is why bothered to try with Rose. And thus it happened one day, she was alone, something that rarely happened. He sat down, sharing a table with her without realising it. ‘Your eyes are lovely.’ He didn’t react as no one ever really talked to him. ‘Rooth?’ Hearing his name from someone other than his family or a teacher made him jump a little and he lifted his head quickly. ‘Rose?’ It was weird to say the name, that his mind had said silently so many times, out loud. ‘Your eyes are lovely.’ His mouth tried to smile but he didn’t really know how so just lifted one side of his mouth. ‘Thank you.’ He wanted to say more but he didn’t. All his vocabulary seemed not enough to impress Rose. ‘So, are you going to the play?” “No.” It took a while before he remembered that he should ask if she would go. “Are you?” “Yes. Illa is making me.” “Illa?” “She is in our class. The blonde girl, almost white.” “Oh.” “Why aren’t you coming?” ” I just, plays aren’t really my thing.” “Well what is your thing?” “I like to read.” “Oh.” It was an awkward conversation and Rose was little annoyed that he did not put a lot of effort in the conversation, but Rooth did. He did all he thought he could. He just wasn’t very good at talking. Again, silence. Rose had no idea what she could ask him and Rooth had no idea what to say, which words to use. ‘What do you want to do?’ ‘What do you mean?” “After school.” “I want to study philosophy and psychology. You?” “I want to be a doctor.” “Why?” “I don’t know, it just seems wrong to do anything else than help people, do some good in this world.” Her eyes had widened, she looked serious and the passion in her eyes looked like the flames coming from her burning desire to help, do good. That was the kind of girl she was, she seemed flawless, always smiled, always kind. She had a good soul, but no one is ever perfect and she wasn’t. Firstly: her left arm was completely burned, at least the skin on it. The flesh had burning marks all over it and was still extremely sensitive. She had slight OCD. Her bangs needed to be pushed to the right side, she would otherwise freak out. She also had to be friends with everyone, everyone had to like her, she would go to great lengths to befriend them, even forgetting het other friends. There was one thing Rooth and Rose had in common. They had no real friends. Rooth had just no one around him and Rose had a lot of people around her but no one was really close to her. She had a lot of good friends, but no best one. She was lonely, but she never wanted to admit it.