random writings.

then.

Written on the day of this happening.

I could remember the faint noise of my breathing - my chest rose with each intake and sank with every output. The breath I expelled trailed off like smoky wisps, rising and rising until eyes could no longer catch them. I wasn't panicking per say; I was merely anxious. I had been anxious since the start, but especially in that moment. That moment when excitement binded to anxiety and became one, conflicting emotion. I knew I was meeting someone, I knew that from the vocal display the others had provided the day before, saying we were all going to meet 'someone', and I mockingly rolled my eyes in discontent. I didn't like meeting new individuals; I didn't like the fact that they could make judgements about me from the way I looked, or expressed myself. I didn't like the fact that they could hate me without even knowing me. I didn't like meeting new people. I didn't panic about meeting them, knowing I was going to be surrounded by others, but there was always a sense of anxiety in conjunction with the situation. I was excited about meeting someone new and a fresh face, about how I could start new conversations that had never taken place before; someone who brought a new sense of atmosphere with them. Someone who didn't know what my past was like, and someone who I could recreate myself for, without them knowing it wasn't who I am at all. Someone I could make new experiences with, someone who wasn't able to judge me for my past, because it was unlikely I was going to share it. But there were a wide range of negatives as well, concerning whether the wrong crowds would take them in, and they'd know of my past and learn from others to judge me for it. I was anxious, but I was nowhere near panicking. I leant my head against the lone burnt umber trunk of the tree behind my frame, trying to overcome the anxiety that had overcame me, but had yet to make me panic. I closed my eyes softly, having slept minimal hours the night before. The black I had cloaked myself in, somewhat represented all of me, and none of me at the exact same time. I could hear the light squelch of the mud as I tapped my feet tirelessly, and I could hear the faint voices of those positioned around the area I resided in. Sunlight still managed to spill past my eyelids, making my vision which once was black, a light shade of red. I heard the disturbance of almost silence that encapsulated me, one voice that of one of my closest friends, and one that may be one of the most significant and unique tones I had ever heard. My eyes managed to flutter open, knowing whoever possessed the soft, contralto voice was the one I was told I was going to meet. My eyes wearily grew used to the bright contrast of the Sun, and landed on my closest friend and someone completely different from anyone I had ever met, yet so familiar it was hard to comprehend. Their appearance was homely to me, their features soft and subtle but still stood out - I, at once thought about sketching them, all their features were remarkable and memorable. It was clear that they were conspicuous, but in a way that only I may have noticed. I chuckled softly to myself, knowing they'd fit in extraordinarily well with the others whose presence was a constant and needed in my life. I could tell that from the way they presented themselves. They were unique in so many different ways - their voice and their appearance were extremely distinctive, not like anything I knew before from many different sources. They were perfect, but, of course, I had known them for a mere few seconds, and knew nothing of them other than their appearance and their voice. But how they looked was extremely stunning, they were like a masterpiece of a perfect artist, and judging by the way they portrayed themselves by body language as shy, they really didn't know that, which was an extreme shame. They looked awkward in the situation my friend had placed them in, so I tried to ease away the tension, knowing full well how meeting others for the first time felt.