So, I live in one of the hottest places now. Arizona; but the sky is clear, and the moon is so full and bright tonight. My skin feels like tiny little flowers are kissing it, and I love it more than anything.
I read my book about a woman falling in love with a centaur and just enjoy my evening.
My evening to myself, while plenty of other people are asleep. All I can think about while I sit outside in the backyard of the small house I’m renting, is that I really need to get some friends.
I’ve had friends, on and off all of my life. Except they never seem to stick around as long as other people’s friends do. Once I really start opening up, they disappear.
I’ve been through it all…therapy to try and figure out what’s wrong with me. Self-help books to find out what’s wrong with my parents. I’ve even gone the route of deciding that there’s something wrong with those people instead.
In the end the only definitive answer I have is that there’s just something about me that other people shy away from.
I say the wrong thing at the wrong time, I laugh when everyone else is quiet, and I’m so easily excited that people seem to cringe.
For twenty-six years of my life, I’ve been trying to find out what and why. Perhaps even how.
It’s been exhausting…and my only respite are nights like these. The moonlight is both relaxing and invigorating. It gives me time to think, really think, and get to know myself in ways that I didn’t before.
Journaling helps with this.
Though, these days I think I’m just repeating the same tired lines over and over again.
I sigh and put my pink gel pen down between the pages of the frilly sticker lined journal that’s nestled on top of my plush thighs.
“Maybe Mark at work wants to be friends?” I ask myself. My voice is quiet in the night. The only other sounds are that of the crickets and cars passing by on the road across the street. Whooshing with the wind every now and then.
I shake my head. “I guess I’ll never know if I don’t try!” I smile to myself and pick up my pen again.
Tomorrow I’m going to see if Mark from work wants to meet up for coffee.
He seems like a nice guy. Other people in the office don’t talk to him very much either.
It’s time I try even harder to make a friend. Put myself out there. Right?
I sign off, Felicity, and put the ribbon marker down before closing the book. I click the pen and slide it into the fabric holder on the side of the journal. I’m determined to make at least one friend this week. Even if it means potentially embarrassing myself in front of the people who dislike me the most.
***
Seven hours later I’m nursing a green tea with a fourth cup of sugar in it as I walk into the office. Cubicles line the room and the bright white lights make my eyes hurt. I’m glad I got the bluelight coating on my glasses the last time I ordered them. I used to get headaches halfway through the day before.
No one says hello to me, no one except…Mark. Mark Rutherford. He’s a tall lanky man only in his mid-thirties with a balding hairline. Apparently, that’s the bad thing, but to me it’s just what he looks like.
Mark gives me a firm “Good morning, Felicity.” A nod of his head, and then turns back to his desk with his coffee mug next to him.
I smile at him and prepare myself for talking to him. I rehearse what I’m going to say in my head…and yet what comes out of my mouth comes out, out of order and incredibly chipper.
“We should coffee get,” I tell him.
He turns to look at me, and blinks. “Ah, what?”
I blink back at him, not realizing what I have said is wrong for a solid ten seconds. “Oh. Well, the coffee here sucks,” I tell him with a chuckle. “We should get coffee somewhere else sometime.”
“I make the coffee in the morning,” Mark tells me. His face has fell into a flat line. His eyes are dark and I can’t sense any emotion in them. Though, according to every therapist I’ve ever had, you’re not supposed to be able to in the first place. So, maybe I’m reading him wrong.
“It’s not very good,” I insist. “Maybe you’re using too much?” I keep a smile on my face, trying to be positive. Positive and honest. The two things I think are the most important traits of mine…and as I am about to see, yet again, the two things that get me in the most trouble.
“I don’t think so, Felicity,” Mark snaps at me. “…and I’m a married man.”
I tilt my head to the side. “What does you being married have to do with anything?” I raise a brow. “I want to get to know you better.”