Excerpts from the blue notebook; Insert two

May 27, 2011

You know when you're sitting next to someone adn you know they'ere distraught? You more than anything want to say something to them. Ask if they're okay, see if there is anything you can do to make them feel better. But you can't. There is something stopping you, you know what it is but you want to desperately defy that reason. You consider writing them a note but you don;t think they'll respond. You could simply fold it up and place is on their knee. You'd watch them from the corner of your eyes as they look at the note and then at you. You think, "Open it. Open it, please just open it." But you still don't write them that note. Why? Because you're terrified. What if they look at the note, pick it up, rip it to shred and then place them in between you. Your mouth would fall open in schock and you'd stare at the pieces. You'd look at them and then start to cry. It was like they tore up your heart. Sure, you only wrote, 'Is everything okay?' but still. They broke your heart and you're still trying to be nice to them. Why should he rip up the paper if all you've done is be nice and love them with all of your heart. What if they just takes the note off their knee and gives it back to you? Why bother not even reading it? What if they just pretend it wasn't there? What if they get up and throw it away without even looking at it? What if, what if, what if? So you sit. You sit next to them wiggiling on the inside. Bitting your tongue not to say anything. You just want to be their friend if nothing more. You just want to console them. Bring their head to your chest and hold them. You would whisper, "Listen. Listen to my heart. It's beating for you. Feel that? Feeling my lungs working? They're breathing for you. I'm here when things get rough. By your side through thick and thin. That's what best friends do." But no. You sit in silence. Silence that's screaming.