Love Letters and Literature

Cruel Irony and Tender Moments

Sophia's POV:

I had told Fiona that I just wanted to be alone, but I realized almost immediately that was a mistake.

Never before had I felt so unwelcome in my own home. It's as if the walls themselves were mocking me for my disgusting lie.

There is no one else, but that's what you're supposed to say right? That's the end all admission if you want to get someone to give up on you.

Or to hate you.

I can usually keep it together but I'm realizing that in order to be strong I need someone to be strong for. When I'm alone I have no reason to put on a face, so I left.

I didn't even think about the fact that it's thirty-five degrees outside. I didn't think about the fact that I'm a woman alone at night.

I ran out and heaved breaths of cold air into my lungs, the air in my apartment had become so sickly and volatile that I was suffocating trying to breathe it.

My shoeless feet pattered on the cold concrete as I ran far from my thoughts, my feelings, my pain.

The waffle patterned sweater on my torso did nothing to stop the cold winter air from whipping through to my burning skin.

Why do artists always have to be so dramatic?

I ran to the park near my apartment and walked around until I found the swings.

The metal chains were terribly cold but I grasped them with shaky hands anyways.

Now I sit here, second guessing so many aspects of my life. Should I transfer to a different school? Should I just go home? Do I deserve to have romantic love at all?

As I sit here and swing ever so softly I can feel the cold creeping in.

Why didn't I at least wear shoes?

The soft crunch of approaching feet on leaves causes my head to snap in the direction of the sounds.

Are you kidding me right now?!

I want to curse the skies and all of the deities of the world for this moment. Can't I just suffer in peace?

Thomas - fucking - Crane is walking towards me with his hands in his coat pockets. He's staring at me with worrying eyes that I can't help but notice are also red and puffy.

Is that because of me?

I suddenly realize I have to put on a face so I straighten up and try to smile.

If he realized the blatant irony of us both being sad at the same time, along with a few other clues, he'd surely figure out that I am.. was Lane.

"Fancy seeing you here," I say once he's in ear shot and he smirks back at me.

He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out at first, he has to clear his throat.

"Aren't you cold?" He says eventually and I just shrug.

"Why would I be?" I respond, having completely forgotten that I'm basically wearing pajamas on a swing in the dead of winter with no shoes or socks on.

"You do know you're barefoot and coat-less? Right? Or is this a drug trip and I need to take you to the hospital?"

I look down at my ensemble and groan.

"I'm not on drugs Professor, I just... really love the cold," I lie.

That's a fucking lie. I'm a damn dirty liar!