immediately preceding a double rainbow over Mugandamore. Cartesian
products. Waving Flags. All I can think about is who is on the other
side of this wall I lean against, I stare at as thirty Rwandan students
stare back. I sit and observe the others. I see the way his hand
twitches on the back of the chair during lunch, the way her body is
tilted ever-so-slightly towards him. The way he keeps his hand on the
strap of his bag when they walk, perhaps worried his nervousness will
betray his deepest emotions. When asked about him she laughs to sound
nonchalant, but the smallest moment's hesitation behind her eyes, the
tiniest change in her intonations betray her desired reality. The
strategic placement of hands as to maximize the potential to be held.
I see this all. I process it, understand it. I know more about these
people from how they interact than from what they say. I can do this,
and I am very good at it. But I seem incapable of correctly
comprehending my own actions. I see what they do, I see its effects, its
efficiencies and its flaws. But I cannot understand my own actions and
their outcomes. I can see a projected path, given certain continuations
and logical progressions, for the interactions of two people. I am not
able to do such for myself. She is near me. I feel so much.
I sense my own longing for comfort, for compassion, for safety. I fear.
I am afraid. Loneliness will engulf me like a grain of sand in a storm.
My only fighting chance against the perpetual torment that is the
undying loneliness. To be alone, isolated is not bad. Perpetually? It is
like the stink of death. I can ignore it, yes. I can pretend it does not
exist. But it will eventually overcome me, consume me. I will become it
through death itself. I can only hope that she, the one like the moment
before it rains, like the double rainbow to finish off a perfect day,
can help me fill the void I still harbor in my heart. She is. Beautiful.