Sinfully Imperfect

11. Midnight Texts, Pepsi Cola & Council Office

Tossing and turning, tossing and turning, tossing and turning. Ugh, that's just what I had been doing. It was 2 a.m., and Ms. Sleep was nowhere to be seen. After each failed attempt at sleeping, I sat on my bed with my face between my palms. Mr. Ogling Owl from the Alley seemed to have a profound effect on me. Darn you, Mr. Ogling Owl!

Ivy, on the other hand, was softly snoring, her mouth slightly apart. She was all wrapped up in her blanket and pillow, like a small girl. Her little bunny was crumpled up in her tight embrace. Seeing her sleeping peacefully brought a smile to my face. Despite the fact that she was a complete nut, she was always a dear friend of mine!

Ms. Sleep was running late, and I wanted to kill some time. So, I took my phone off the charger and went straight to Instagram. What an ideal time I found for responding to their messages! They'd most likely think I was suffering from insomnia.

I opened his text with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. The guy really messed with my head!

SENIOR (1:15 a.m.) ~

"When you're surviving for others, neutrality is what you get. Healing yourself is of no use."

So, Senior Poker Face, is this the case?

ME (2:15 a.m.) ~

"Mr. Perspective matters! It was you who chose this life and neutrality. Moreover, to heal others, you need to cure yourself first. Mr. Façade once said to me, 'I don't last long.' "

I sighed and buried my face in my pillow. Senior Poker Face, you perplex me like no one else on the planet. I was about to put my phone down when a message popped up. Shit, double shit, triple shit! I read it while biting my lower lip:

SENIOR (2:18 a.m.) ~

"Few facades are worth lasting. Still, the truth remains: 'Fragments of a flower without fragrance cannot explain the originality of the flower.' "

I read it, then read it again, and then again. Was he a major in English? As a freaking piano note, his words played in my head. They were absolutely genuine, pure, realistic, and natural. It wasn't the line he wrote that made me smile; it was the way he mingled his own perspective into those few lines.

Those fragments were his pieces, his façade, which he displayed to the whole world, devoid of any emotions or feelings. There was no denying that underneath his tough exterior lurked a man whose uniqueness and soulfulness could not be described. He never failed to amaze me; I must say! That was the aspect that drew me to him. He wasn't sulking about his story in front of me, nor was he shielding his real self from me. He was just being honest—purely and utterly honest. I wondered if he knew who I was. Shaking these thoughts, I typed:

ME (2:25 a.m.) ~

"Then it's best to burn those fragments and wait for fresh flowers, whose fragrance can be coveted."

SENT

That was the last thing I remembered before darkness engulfed me.

###

Groaning, I stretched my arms with a yawn. It was Saturday, which meant I had to catch up with Faith to talk about joining the student council. My hands roaming on my bed in search of my phone, which had been concealed under my sheet. Since when did phones start to play hide-and-seek?