My two minute stranger.

Some time ago, a long time-in-playgrounds-and-pigtails ago, Mom told me to never hide behind feelings, to never give anybody the upper hand of my heart, the heart on my sleeve.


She told me with her (old wrinkly) voice that I shouldn't hide the truth from anyone - because when you meet your best friend, your first friendship, you'll be the one afraid yet brave despite the current emotions making your knees weak. And you'll want them to see you as a person. Not a shadow.


Her mother told her to be straight forward. And that's what she did. She told her first (will you be my friend?) best friend and she told her first (will you be mine?) boyfriend.


They might've rejected her, forgot about her, threw her to the pavement with mean smirks, or opened their arms to a life time of happiness. She didn't dare look back after that. Fight now, cry later.

But then she met someone like her. Someone who understood her positive forwardness. Someone who liked that she was brave and small and boiled with anger everyday when the sun is at its highest.

I'm so afraid to show I care. Will he think I'm weak, if I tremble when I speak? 


Someone who took her hand instead of vice versa and someone who said (I'm me, and I want to know you) Hello. She said (I've been looking for you everywhere) Hi. He smiled his bright smile and couldn't help sending him one of her own. 

Throwing away everything she learnt, she pulled him into her arms and said with an inner emotion that could not explain in words, I'm afraid. But I love you. Can I take you home with me even though I'm a stranger? I won't forget you if you walk away. Yet I won't be mad because people are sane and I'm unrealistic. 

Can you live with an unrealistic person with their heart in your hand?

She remembered before her head started spinning from the sound of his touch and the feel of his whispered thoughts. 

I wouldn't like it any other way. Because you're my unrealistic two minute stranger. 

"There's a time when you can share and you hold hands and be on the same path. But there's always a fork in the road... at some point. And sometimes you have to go on one part of the fork and they gotta go on the other part of the fork. Or just down the back part of the fork while you go forward. And they're like *sigh* Or they got a salad fork and you have one of the big dinner forks and you have longer to go but they're like done because that's it, they're stuck on a piece of food, that they *sigh*. A desert fork or like one of those, you know small little shrimp forks or crab forks and you're trying to get out a crab. They're like that and you're over here jumping to the huge serving fork or something like that, or a ladle, you know."

Death wish.

"How do you know when you're ready to die?"

He remained quiet for a few seconds, the silence on his part somewhat alarming, and she was hardly aware of the way her fingers clenched tense fistfuls of sand.

"…You just know," he finally said after a moment, voice calm and complacent in the still air.

Her brows furrowed.

"What do you mean you 'just know'?"

"How do you know when you're in love?" he returned, tone wry. "How do you describe knowing that?"

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, unable to think of an answer.





"Yeah, it's like that. You just know. You can't put it into words."




"Huh" she mumbled, looking out in the distance, past the sandy dunes and watched the tired sun finally setting and watching the after glow take place.




"You just know."

Making things real.

I've always known you were the one that wrote on my napkins and the on the corners of last weeks newspaper. Leaving little remarks that put a smile (even though I don't want to) unexpectedly on my face.

I've always known, somehow, you wrote me letters, letters in your own hand (because it's untidy and messy and I can see your tears from yesterday) because they're more personal and meaningful than something typed out on a computer.

I've always known you were the one that stood behind the door when I stepped out, giving me a fright (with blazing eyes and small pummeling fist coming your way) just so you could see my after out-of-breath-smile and just so I can receive that gentle I'm-really-sorry-I-made-you-die-in-like-3-seconds kiss.

And I've always known that you, (stubborn, funny, way too protective) you always came back to me, (overly, shy, a nervous wreck, happy-because-you're-real) me.

I don't know how I'm supposed to feel.

It is now 22:33. One more hour and twenty-seven minutes till I turn 17.

Hope you lovelies had an awesome day.

What appears to be the end may really be a new beginning.

"YOSH!" Something Rock Lee would have said at a time like this.

It's a new year and new beginnings. I want, and for everyone that is reading this too, to start this year with as little problems, less angry-frightening-I'm am going to kick your ass- moments and more positive and happy days (even though it, me, you could be quite annoying during these moments).

Whaddya' say?

Cheers.

PS: I might be mentioning or not be mentioning it buuuut 5 more days it might be my birthday.