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The Right Time
There's something she wants to ask him so bad. But it's not the right time.
It's never the right time.
She stares at her screen, typing and deleting, typing and deleting...
They rarely speak in person anymore, always online, always online. She wishes that would change. There's so many things she wants to say but it's not the right time.
Will it ever be the right time?
With every "Hey," she means a thousand other things. If he only knew...
They're fighting. She loves it. Because he's so nice that he's arguing that she is far superior to him. Compliments are raining down on her, but it's the softest, sweetest drizzle. She never wants it to stop. She wants to sing in it and dance in it and bring him in it with her and hold him and kiss him and be his forever in that sweet soft rain.
I cnt play an instrument
I cant ride a skateboard
I cant sing!
I cant build anything!
ur good at math!
Yur good at science!
ur a good writer!
Yur waaay nicer!
Not even! How?
She hesitates. Should she straight out say it? Tell him her deepest secret? The one thing she would die if he knew, yet would do anything for him to know? No. She won't. It's not the right time.
It’s almost the right time.
But what if it IS the right time, and she won't know it was until its over?
At least, she THINKS she'll know.
She HOPES she'll know.
Typing and deleting
Typing and deleting
Typing and deleting
Typing something else, not quite the same, and... SEND.
That probably wasn't the best thing to say... So many implications...
Does she want him to know?
Does she not?
Will he understand what she's saying?
Will he think she means something else?
Is HE trying to say something?
Everything is just so confusing. But everyone goes through it in some point of their lives.
Do they know when it's the right time?
Do they say it even when it's not?
She's read so many stories, and they all sound the same. The same but different. Reading, she thought she could feel how it felt, but experiencing it wasn't the same.
It was crazy.
Maybe even insane.
It was wonderful.
Maybe even beautiful.
It was mysterious.
Maybe even thrilling.
It was everything she had been holding up inside of her, dying to get out, RUNNING for the open door, but slamming into the screen. But what made it through the minuscule holes in the screen was filtered. Twisted and shaped into something else. Something more innocent. Something less intense, as if not to intimidate him. There was one of her on each side of the screen, pulling as hard as they could. They were both exhausted from fighting each other, but neither one would give up.
It was late.
She made a wish.
She told him to make one too
She wished for him to wish for her.
She was tired.
Her brain was tired.
Her heart was tired.
He was tired.
He left, without even waiting for her to say goodbye.
She sat there staring at the screen.
Why did she make him notice it was late? All she wanted was for him to stay. Ok, that wasn't ALL she wanted, but still. She hadn't found the right time.
Or maybe she had.
Maybe she just didn't have the guts to say it.
But maybe if it WAS the right time, she would know to say it.
But no one really knows when the right time is.
You only figure it out after the moment is gone to the stars, a different galaxy, a different dimension, or wherever perfect times go when they aren't used well and wisely.
She logs off, wondering if it'll ever be the right time.