(no subject)
scratchy writing on the green-colored chalkboard in front of me. staring at it for what seems like an eternity... two thirty-three in the afternoon. beaten and scared hands type these words. mere words. two thirty-four in the afternoon. the silence is like noise. tick tick. two thirty-seven in the afternoon. my thoughts cease and my eyes drawn astray by a beauty unaware of my glance. his pale blue eyes suddenly catch mine and i look away with shy, red-rosed cheeks and teary, bright blue eyes. i love you. two thirty-nine in the afternoon...