To Pass And Collide
To Pass And Collide lgbt-story stories

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Eleonore and I hadn’t really talked before. Not properly at least. About serious things. And just the two of us. We were in the same circle of friends. Well, that’s how it’s called although it was more of a mazy formation of people of whom nobody knew the others all that well.
By loving-moodboards https://loving-moodboards...

To Pass And Collide

by loving-moodboards

Eleonore and I hadn’t really talked before. Not properly at least. About serious things. And just the two of us. We were in the same circle of friends.

Well, that’s how it’s called although it was more of a mazy formation of people of whom nobody knew the others all that well.

I guess Amory was the central figure that kept everyone else together; I don’t really know how he managed it but our group stayed as it was. And that’s how it worked. We met as a group.

I never met one of them outside of it and I never really had the urge to do so. I often asked myself if that was a bad thing but quickly shrugged it off.

Our evenings were spent drinking, smoking and listening to music. Sometimes at someone’s house, sometimes outside.

They always ended with everyone leaving and never made an outstanding memory but that’s how I had been experiencing my teenage years until this point anyway.

This evening I sat outside on Meg’s porch, eyes round, lips parted and probably looking like an idiot. I had just smoked weed with a few others. It always has this effect on me.

I then wonder about the world and the night and its colours and stuff like that. Eleonore came on to me and sat down beside me.

“You’re inspired, aren’t you?”It was such a sudden and uncommon thing to ask, said without looking at me, that it made me close my mouth.

A few seconds dragged by between us before I had found the right response. “I don’t know?” Okay, I have to admit that I never find the right response. “You look like it.

You have that glow in your eyes, I recognise it. You are definitely inspired.

Do you write? Or draw or make music?” My from weed bedazzled brain couldn’t really catch up with what she was saying or why she was saying it at all but it made me answer.

“I write poems from time to time.”“Did you ever try it after smoking weed?”I couldn’t say that I had. It had never occurred to me before.

Mostly because in the moment I could do nothing but stare at anything that was at least a little bit interesting. And eat. Always eat. “You should then.

Something amazing is probably going to come out of it. Or something hilarious. Either way a win-win situation.”She spoke so carefree and yet so wise. Or that was just my weed brain talking.

In any case she was one of those people where you can’t tell if they are fascinating or annoying. Maybe both.

Again time passed by and I had a feeling Eleonore would have said something else but didn’t want to interrupt my inspiration or whatever it was she had seen in my eyes.

Too bad she already had and I listened closely into the night, interested in what she would tell me next. I didn’t have to wait for too long.

“How do you tell someone that they are ruining your life?”It was such a different topic, yet similarly random that it made me smile. “Just like that?”, was my suggestion.

“Nah, can’t do that, I love my mum.”I laughed out loud at that one. This girl was definitely fascinating.“Why is your mum ruining your life?”, I asked so the conversation could progress.

“I don’t know, I never asked her”, Eleonore said without blinking. Actually she looked like she meant it. I had to laugh again.

“Do you even take yourself seriously?”“I don’t think that I should do that.

” In that moment she finally looked over at me when before she had just stared blindly into the night as if she could actually see something.

I often did that myself when talking to people I didn’t really know.

It made me feel uncomfortable having to look into someone’s eyes and I could collect my thoughts better when gazing into the distance.

Now that it was her who had been looking away though, I was actually grateful that she finally met my gaze. She smiled and it made me smile back. And it was only a little bit awkward.

“Are you happy?”, she asked then.“Are you even able to hold one topic for two minutes?”“I don’t know?”, she mimicked my answer from before, unashamedly grinning at me.“Touché.

” I grinned back.“So? Are you?” Eleonore looked at me with the most serious expression she had worn that evening. I realised I couldn’t turn this into a joke.

So I looked down, thinking for a bit, or rather feeling or whatever you did to figure this out. Then I said, genuinely, yes.“You don’t even know that you’re unhappy”, Eleonore said disbelieving.

Her pretty hazel eyes widened and her nose flared. She looked like a puppy.

“Excuse me?” Eleonore was cute and definitely smart but what did she know about my happiness?“Oh come on, you are a closeted lesbian fish in a sea of homophobes.

How can you be happy with that?” Eleonore looked at me challengingly. I gaped at her.“Trust me, I can tell”, she winked. “And I’m no different.”I was vain and cynic and sometimes tactless.

Eleonore was impulsive, tiring and often sulking.We probably didn’t seem like the perfect match but we could be when we worked for it.

One silent evening I took out some weed a friend had brought me. Okay, it was Amory. I still don’t really know much about the others.

I smoked it and waited until I got this same feeling as always. The same feeling as on that evening. I then started to write. Only a single line came out in the end. But I found it fitting.

I turned it into a letter, wrote it down and put it into an envelope. It said:Dear Eleonore,Sometimes our demons collide. But when they entwine, they do so beautifully.Yours, Augustina

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