She doesn’t mind pebbles.

I started writing this one 8 months ago, but never really found the inspiration to finish it. For some reason, inspiration is hitting me like a hailstorm today, so here’s the finished piece.

Posts tagged “People” are short pieces inspired by people I know in real life. No naming names here~

Also — Checkout this cool photo I took when we went hiking! 😀

the drive

I couldn’t understand her the first time we met. She was loud–so loud, and her laughter bounced like a bowling ball across the nervous tension of that room filled with complete strangers. The way she spoke had a curious lilt, her sentences always rushed towards the periods like she was scared they wouldn’t have a chance to be spoken fully. She spoke a lot, and listening to her talk was like listening to roller coaster scream down a metal track.

Three years ago, I could recognize her voice from a mile away just by the sound of wind whistling past her words. People here are nicer than most, they remember to drop the stones they hold instead of throwing them at things they don’t like. Despite that, she used to cause people to pick up an awfully many number of rocks. I remember wondering why she never noticed all those stony stares and pained laughs scattered around her path.

At one point, I asked her if she tripped a lot when she walked.
“Oh, I do.” She had laughed, meeting my slanted gaze with confidence. “But I don’t mind it now.”
“I’ve learned to like myself.”

A cliche one-liner from the mouth of any other,  but I knew her words were formed by the kaleidoscope of purple bruises on her shin where she had collided with those dropped rocks. Her answer struck me like a knife. At that time (maybe even now), the thought of liking myself felt like a lonely dream. I remember this single moment as the one when I thought that we just might be able to be friends.

She responded slowly, quietly, so as to make it clear that the words she spoke next were important.
“Because if I don’t, how can anyone else?”


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