Pain of Inaction, Anxiety of Decision: questioning the identity.

What a terrible friend.
What a terrible person.

I am just biding my time,
watching with lustful eyes,
waiting for others to take her firsts,
waiting to take what isn't mine.

She is the object of my desperation.
Even when in my dreams at night,
My mind calls forth others,
Because my psyche still knows:
she is out of bounds,
an angel forever out of reach.

We feign a sexual relationship-- a joke, a joke!--
but we can both hear the tremor in our laughter,
the hesitation just begging to be noticed,
to be brought from the darkness.

I am the village idiot,
but even I notice a love so unending, so dedicated, so pure.
How can I corrupt her?

Everyday, just hanging out, I've already dragged her into
the depths she should have never fallen to.
She deserves a man who's able to protect her

God, why did you make me this way?
I love her. I love her. I love her.

Perpetual Loneliness

Am I an absent existence?
Longing to be heard, yearning to be called for.

No, it's not true-- I am present, I am here.
I can see the mist, hear the drone,
Taste the bitter truth, feel its relentless sting.
I am as I am, striving in place for a place.
They see me,
They see through me.

What do they know?
Their silent condescending glares speak volumes,
Their large, unbridled mouths even more,
But from me their ears are forever deaf.
I, myself, have yet to utter a word.

What do they know?
What could they know?
I am barricaded off from their happy, pretentious worlds.
Is it they who purposefully sun me,
Or I who repels any chances?

This scrape on the wall knows more than most,
The projection of herself is loathed, despised,
But even if she disappeared, ceased to be present,
They wouldn't be better off; they'd have never noticed.

Sunshine peeks through murky sky,
But a gray, rotten quagmire overtakes this absent existence,
And slowly,
Slowly
Suffocates me.

Chance Encounters, 2

But for the sake of telling the story, I'll save those details for later.

Back in McDonalds, I am currently absent-mindedly chewing on a McChicken, staring at the small stack of books I brought with me to pass the time.  By books, I don't mean the thrilling novels.I used to read, and wished I still had time to. One was a  textbook for my engineering major; I hadn't exactly gotten started on the next lecture's assigned reading. One was an employment booklet (yes, like everyone else, I too am looking for a job). The last three were collections of piano scores, ky latest assignments from my university-assigned private teacher, Dr. Trappe.

"You're gonna go for the piano again, as usual," someone commented, interrupting my Zen-like state of empty thoughts.

I looked up to Shawn's smiling face, returning it with an elated sigh.

"Yeah, probably."

The best way to describe Shawn was that he was a cheerful kid, even if he was 27 years old, older than me. He worked the graveyard shifts MWF and Saturdays at this McDonalds joint, the only one in the city that really stayed open to "for here" customers for all 24 hours of the day, so whenever I pulled an all-nighter away from my apartment, he was usually at the register, and he was more than useful for keeping me awake. Shawn was a real chatterbox; though I've told him almost nothing about my own life, I knew that his parents were born in Nigeria, his mom passed away five years ago, his two kid sisters were going to graduate high school this Spring, and his 8th grade brother was a bad-mouthed squirt who secretly sneaks food out for stray cats.

Yep, Shawn was really something.

He sat down next to me, glancing quickly at the monitor behind the register for Drive-thru members. "So, what do we have on the table this time?  Gimme!" he demanded, reaching childishly for my piano books.

I smiled, appreciating his efforts to cheer me up, and handed them to him as I read each title aloud. "Bach, Preludes and Fugues... "

"I'm going to pretend I know what those are."

I laughed. "Chopin's Waltzes and Polonaises..."

"You always got one of his on ya, huh?"

"Well, what can I say, I love my Chopin," I grinned mischievously, confirming his observation.

"Girl, don't talk 'bout 'em like they're still alive!" he exclaimed in a mock-condescending tone.

At that moment, he noticed a car in the Drive-thru monitor. 

"Sorry, be right back, got handle this one real quick," he apologized before racing back to the counters.

I waved my hand carelessly, showing that it didn't bother me at all, and opened the last piano book I hadn't yet introduced to Shawn. Schubert's "Piano Sonata in D Major". It was a masterpiece of four movements... and a huge headache.

Chance Encounters.

When I was first introduced to the piano at age six, I immediately had delusions of grandeur. Comparatively speaking, I took to it faster than most, and as the years passed by, nearly all my teachers applauded me for my technique and command of dynamics. Of course, music is so much more than skill. By the time I entered high school and began to handle more advanced pieces, such as Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata, I realized that music was the ultimate medium for expression. It was pure, untainted by meaningless words.

Naturally, I wanted to continue learning even after graduation, but my parents convinced me to invest in a much more stable career.  In the fall of my freshman year of college, I moved to.California's Bay area to double major in chemical engineering and piano performance. A year later, I met up with a high school friend of mine, Kristine, who happened to attend the same university as me. Tired of the expenses and restrictions of on-campus living, we agreed to rent an apartment together.

Which brings me where I am today, a few months into my junior fall semester, eating sandwiches from the dollar menu at McDonalds at one o'clock in the morning.

Admittedly, I left out a few details.


Hey everyone, this one is an idea that has been swimming around in my head for quite a few years now. It's supposed to be a oneshot, but it's impossible for me to write it in one go and I don't want to decide half-way through writing that I won't post the story after all. As such,  I will be slowly updating this "oneshot," with no meaning behind where I stop the story in each post (besides that it was the point where I got tired of writing), so please bear with me >.< I hope I can follow through on this one, and if I do, I hope you'll stay with me til the end!
Also, I'm writing this through the Blogger app on my phone so that I can work on it even when I'm not at home.  However, I'm pretty bad when it comes to typing on the screen keyboard, so I apologize in advance if the updates are full of typos. Just comment and let me know, I'll fix them when I get home!
Thanks for reading,
Sarah.

Raindrops Part 1

The rain thundered against every window in the city. The clouds sent lightning strikes against the empty streets. Cars were stuck in garages, children were all put to sleep, and the only lights were streetlamps flickering. Only one young lady, without an umbrella, braved the weather. The wind ripped at her clothes, her hair a tangled mess of brown. She squinted, looking for the keys to open the gate of the apartment. The gate gave a slight click, and flung open. The girl grunted and shut the sliver, rusted gate. Another click, as the door of her apartment burst open. Her sister shot off the couch.

“Holy SH*T!! Becca you scared the crap out of me!” she screamed, trying to calm her racing heart. An actor from the T.V screamed in terror as hands dragged her under the bed.

“Watching scary movies again, Sarah? I thought I told you not to. I don’t want you climbing in my bed later,” replied Rebecca, giving her sister an annoyed look. She dropped her wet bag on the tan couch.

“Ah! Becca I just cleaned the apartment, and now you dumping all your wet stuff on it!” Sarah grabbed the bag and walked into the garage. Becca looked around. The apartment was cleaner than usual. The tan couch faced the moderate television. Across the living room, the kitchen seemed neat. The marble counter was wiped down, the dishes washed and placed in the white cabinets, and popcorn popped in the microwave.

“So? Who’s coming over Sarah?” Becca teased. She peeked into the laundry room, where clothes were piled on top the dryer and the washer gurgled in soap. “Are you expecting a visitor? Hmmm? Maybe a boy.”

Sarah peeked out the garage and gave Becca a glare, “No. Lucas is coming over tomorrow. We have to go over what he’s going to sell at the Piano store I just bought.”

“Lucus?” said Becca, “So it is a guy!” Sarah threw the dried bag at Becca. “Ow! Okay.” She laughed, “Why do you need him anyways? Who’d trust a guy named Lucus?”

“Becca, I told you! I need to increase my piano chain. The company isn’t improving much. We’ve been earning the same profit for three years now. The international concerts and tutorials we’ve been doing are as expensive as they are profitable,” explained Sarah. She was head of piano music. She owned a chain of piano stores, stadiums, international tours, and even tutored students herself. Her goal: to become the richest and best piano player alive.

“Yeah, Yeah,” said Becca, nodding as she removed the layers of coating she’s worn. Becca walked into her room; matching blankets brown with white lotus flowers on both beds. She looked at the white walls as she changed into black pajamas. Sarah removed the popcorn from the microwave and shut off the T.V.

“Sarah, I’m going to sleep!” yelled Becca from the room. Sarah walked into the bathroom from the hallway door.

“Brush your teeth, nasty!” she yelled. Becca walked into the bathroom.

“So is he cute?” she asked. Sarah pulled up her thick brown, wavy hair into a ponytail, toothbrush in her mouth, and nodded. Becca laughed as she brushed her teeth. Rain continued to slam against their window, but both were asleep by then.

***********************************************************

The sunlight poured in through the East window of their room, hitting Sarah in the face. She rolled over as a knock came to the door. She groaned, lifting her head from the pillow. Alarm clock: 12:15. Sarah jump out of bed as another knock came at the door.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” she mumbled as she toppled out of her pajamas and into some jeans and a black T. She gave a quick glance at herself in the mirror. Oh Great! My hair looks like a monster attacked it!

Another knock came at the door. “Yo! Is anyone in there?” said a deep, humorous voice.

“Yeah! Sorry! I’m coming,” called Sarah, frantically brushing her hair. She ran across the living room, jumped over the couch, and flung the door open. A tall masculine figure, with deep red, spiky hair, and green eyes stared at her. He smiled.

“Hey! I have a pretty boss,” he stepped inside as Sarah blushed.

“I just woke up, how could I possibly…”she stopped, and put herself into a more formal position, “Let’s talk about the piano store you’re managing.” They both sat on the couch as the bathroom door in her room shut.

“Are you with someone?” he asked, getting up. Gently, Sarah sat him back down and shook her head.

“It’s my sister, Becca,” she replied, “Anyways, have you called the decorators yet?”

He laughed, “No. I’m decorating it! I’m making music notes go all around the walls and a white tile floor.”

Sarah smiled, uneasily, “So how much do I owe you?” He laughed again and shook his head.

“Call it a favor for a friend,” he smiled and stretched out his hand. Sarah shook his hand and placed a pack of paper on the living room table.

“Okay. So I have the custom options book. Customers should be able to personalize their pianos. Also, there is a shipment of keyboards and upright pianos coming in. Extra pedals, cables, and keys will also be sold…” Sarah continued her list. Lucas nodded as he wrote down the items being sold. They both turned as the bedroom door opened. Becca appeared in her black Pajamas.

She turned to look at the Red head male on her couch, “Hey.”

“Hey! I’m Lucus,” he waved at her. Becca scooted to the kitchen and poured herself some milk and cereal.

“Becca,” she replied, “nice to meet you.” Her voice was uncaring, and Lucus frowned for the first time since he’d gotten there.

“Hey!” he stood up and walked over to Becca, “smile!” He smiled at her annoyed face.

“What the hell? What are you the cheery police,” said Becca, standing up from the counter stool.

He laughed, “Yes! Of course! I maintain the balance of happiness in this world.” He placed his arms on his hips in presence.

Becca laughed, in spite of herself. She glared at him, “Why are you smiling like an idiot?”

“I made you smile! I made you smile!” he laughed as he danced around.

“Oh. You are an idiot,” Becca picked up her cereal and walked back into the room. Sarah stared at the commotion, laughing to herself.

“Don’t spill anything on my bed Becca!” she yelled. Becca waved a hand at her as she shut the door. Lucus smiled at Sarah.

“I think she likes me.”

Sarah laughed, “Sure. Anyways, we have to price the items still.”

“Right!” Lucus jumped on the couch and continued to scribble across his notepad.