{Bad Moon Rising/Dreamer}

I tend to hold an awkward air about myself, from the actions to the words I speak, everything seems to be clumsy and disorienting. So when this boy comes about, with his vibes of confidence and calm, I am nonetheless taken aback. He says his name, and maybe other things, but I don’t really hear them. I am too lost in the thought of the ease of his words, each one falling out smoothly and into the palm of his hand. He is like a king in posture, but without the crown. He is royalty in voice, without the robe of purple and scepter of gold. His kingdom is that of casualness, with knights and horses emblazoned with simplicity.

He has given me the impression that everything comes easy to him, from the words to the actions he completes. He is not stressed; he is not worried. However, I am, in a way, both of those things. I have become so desperate to find the happiness that is just past my fingertips, so willing to do anything it takes to find the joy that hides just out of my reach. I wonder what his secret is, or if he has a secret to it at all? Maybe he has done nothing but let the peace come to him, and waited on its arrival rather than chase it.

I wish I could do that. I wish that I could lay my head down upon this grass and wait for happiness to come frolicking my way, but instead I chase it. My feet pound the ground and sprint, only stopping when I come to face a mountain or wall that stands tall above my head. He must simply send a knight to do his bidding, having him retrieve the goblet overflowing with happiness, only to present it to him on a golden platter. Oh, how it must shine when the cover is taken from it. It must look like a feast itself, turkey and potatoes and everything the mind could imagine spread across a never-ending table. The taste must be magnificent, sending nothing but warmth through your body. I craved that warmth, like a wild dog craves the meat from a passing by deer.

As I came back to my senses, I almost had to wipe the tiny bit of drool coming from my chin. Oh how nice it must be to not care much. I hadn’t said anything yet, and I still hadn’t thought of anything decent to say. My parents had taught me to not say much, to keep to myself unless I had thought of something absolutely magnificent. Eventually I put myself through the process to realize he’s asked me my name, and for a moment, but only a moment, I raise my eyebrows in confusion. Usually people don’t care about me enough, to wonder who, just why or when. Why are you here? When will you be leaving? Soon. I will be leaving soon. That was always my answer, and every time the word came from my mouth, the quicker it became accurate. But he hadn’t asked my why I was here, or when I was leaving. He had asked who I was.

After I had not heard the question I had planned on being asked, I lightened up a bit. The awkwardness I held about myself seemed to slowly fall away, and I realized that in such a short time, I had maybe made a friend. Maybe. “Uh my name? It’s Bruno. That’s what everyone calls me, anyway.” I had no cool and interesting nickname like his, nothing interesting to set me apart from the many faces he had most likely met. “Sorry for interrupting; I suppose I didn’t realize where I was sitting down. I’ve been told I’ve got a tendency to not pay attention to those kinds of things.” I could feel myself closing up again, the sullen remarks of my parents flying back through my mind and knocking the breath from my cold chest. I try my best to recall his name, and after several silent moments of thought, it comes to me. Ra, short for something I can’t quite remember, but for now it is unnecessary to know. “So, what have you been up to?” My voice sounds childlike, younger than my fourteen years. I sound like the six year olds you see in the park, the ones who argue about who’s “it” in a game of tag. Of course, this may not be how he sees me, but it’s all I can see of myself. A child, someone who’s looked down upon for hiding their happiness under the bed, only pulling it out when nobody is looking.