insecurity. it almost felt as though it DICTATED his entire being and for most of his life â it was the one factor that consumed him like an evil spirit. each decision and omission had to go through meticulous and unrealistic filters and drains. by the time his thoughts went through the intensive process of his mind â it was too late. susannah was different. she resembled his father a little TOO candidly so much that it would feel UNJUST for him to encourage her to have the same mentality so distant to the one his father had engraved into him before his death. â my father used to tell me all the time, that decisions need to be made out of love and not fear. â
susy wishes they could switch minds--not for long, of course, but long enough that they could understand even an ounce of each other. she thinks that if she was a better communicator, she could tell him, explain everything, act as if the entirety of her life was just a dull fiction novel, that it wasnât really happening. âiâd agree with that,â she says, and like everything else, the agreement comes from the heart. she watches him lay there, watches his eyes, and she sighs softly before looking back at the park. she wants to share so badly that itâs tugging at her insides; she wants someone to know what her soul looks like in the dark, even if thereâs no hope of empathy. she wants to try anyways, to show him all of her guts and hope he says that looks like my guts, too. she knows it wonât happen, but... âhey,â she says, before she can stop herself. she realizes sheâs caught his attention and made a grave mistake. she looks away, up at the sky, the trees, anything, and, stupidly, her eyes well up. sheâs wiping them away quickly, hoping he doesnât notice. and then she says, in a cracking voice, âdo you, um, wanna go to a more private place? itâs getting kind of warm, i guess, and, uh, we could go to the church? thereâs a quiet room in the back and we can, uh...â she trails off, and then realizes her words sound like a proposition. she rushes: ânot to, um, do anything weird or whatever, i was just, maybe? we could talk... or something.â she shrugs, staring at her feet.
