The truth in our songs

Chapter 18

Maia-Jane Miller

,, Then I would have nothing to worry about. ,, I answered and all of sudden he jumped up, I didn't flinch, just watched him quickly placing both of his large hands to each sides of me as he placed his astral body with a skillful movement between my dangeling legs, so that I could no longer escape his gaze- I wasn't trying anymore anyways. There was unintelligibility and the obscureness in his eyes devoured me more than the scent of black coffee in his breath. Blake tried too much and too hard, it was getting boring. While he didn't say a word I smiled softly up to him, lassituded  and perception of that face in front of me.

He had no right to be so beautiful yet, someone had given it to him. I hated myself for finding such beauty in those hollow eyes which looked so forsaking and vacated, as if he had gotten rid of everything that was once to be found in them. Something about this boy was so unfilled that it creased my already kinked heart so much more. He looked so barren and dead inside. Maybe he had let go of everything that once previously made him out, or he had been left alone, left behind so much that he had declared everything about his inner values as the main reason to destroy them. Everything that once overflowered was now sucked empty, dried out and sterile.

I had no idea what my eyes found in him, in that striking face, embittered expression and villainy. I could tell myself how ugly he was from inside and out, maybe many parts were and became but his voice had carried something in it, I felt myself attached to. Although his eyes were flat and abandoned, got robbed by their old mildness and delicacy, I still saw frailty. I always thought to not be able to see life in lifeless eyes but I did. Blake's eyes were so dead and yet they breathed.

Everything could slip through that free sight but it was him who catched things with them, he may simply exist but I felt him trying inseccantly to water the deadness that made him hideous. But he couldn't. He couldn't water anything that was already dead and appearantly he had not yet understood that he had to plant new life to fill this void inside of him. However, I assumed that was not the reason. He held onto that deceased part, tried to pick it up again with those rough fingers. A veil lay over his blinded eyes, which he had tied himself, so as not to see that it was sometimes simply too late. Not everything could be saved. And not by him.

,, You are such a loner that your loneliness is driving you crazy. ,, he regarded me and I just chuckled and shook my head.

,, Being a loner doesn't mean to be lonely. ,, I replied and he bent his face closer to mine. I had no idea what his intentions were but he was being strange.

,, You know Maia, I don't think that you're fundamentally a loner. I believe that you were made one. Someone who never speaks, never shows up, never tries to fit in, just watches because that's what the monsters who made you want from you. Something simple and naive, someone who is no problem, no bother. A perfect puppet that is sent off without being wanted back. You are no use. ,, he whispered slowly and his words drowned all the life in me.

,, At least I am loyal to myself then. ,, I told him brittly. I couldn't cry in front of him now and I wouldn't because I didn't cry, ever.

,, What do you mean? Tell me a lie and say that you like being your own company. ,, he raised his eyebrows and I felt his hands still on each side of the empty stage beside me.

,, It's better to be your own company, at least you wont be left by anyone who plainly replaces you with somone who owns the value: more worthy. It's colorless and dull, no lie, you get used to it, but at least I am forced to stay with myself. No one does that for me. I am my own fellow and anyone else is allowed to be a guest, nothing more. ,, I shrugged and he listened to me, closely before a smirk appeared on his face.