How To Laugh

Silence is never silent. If anything, my mind gets louder as everything else gets quieter. That's when all those nameless characters in my head start clawing at the walls of my mind, bent on escaping onto paper or computer so they can be real and keep the loneliness away. And that's when the headache starts.

The ground is uncomfortably uneven, but I am too lazy to switch positions or shake those annoying ants off my clothes. It's also rather cold, and the sky looks like it's ready to cry on me at any moment, but I'm not about to go back home. Sometimes being alone is the easiest way to dull how much I miss you.

I miss you. The words shimmer and cringe behind my eyes, and I'm both disappointed and amused. It's not really fair to miss you. I just like you too much. Maybe if you were more disagreeable, I wouldn't miss you so much, and then I wouldn't have to bite my tongue off every time I see you, for fear I'll blurt out how much I longed to see you this week.

If I said that once, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. But no, I'd tell you every time, and then you might think I'm annoying and clingy and then I'd be the disagreeable one.

A drop of rain falls on my forehead and I jump. Rain is a distraction, an interesting diversion from the dryness of life. Only that's a bad analogy, because my life isn't dry; in fact, it's already interesting without the rain. It's cold out here though, and the rain makes it worse.

But I'm not getting up, because I'm lazy.

You're getting back today or tomorrow. I was hoping it is today, but then I remembered you'll be tired and jet-lagged and so I should leave you alone. I  put my hands behind my head and close my eyes. I'm going to be so muddy after this.

The characters in my head are starting to get desperate. I have no paper and no computer and I don't know how to appease them. I don't need the ideas they are begging me to use; I've written hundreds of things, I've been in the paper, in magazines, published online. I don't need new ideas. I have plenty.

And I miss you.

I laugh out loud as that thought comes flitting back over my stream of consciousness. How is it you take over my mind so much? It's so cliché I almost hate it. But I don't. I like you, and I like thinking about you. You could be rid of me if you were more disagreeable. I smile.

The rain is steady now, and bitterly cold. I begin talking out loud to appease the clamor inside my mind. The voices jump ahead and back and forth, conversing, and I let them. It's easier than copying them down, because sometimes I am tired of the fantasies I create, the fantasies I cannot enter into.

The ground is getting softer, and for some reason that makes me laugh and all the little people and voices get quiet to listen. Laughing is the easiest way to get rid of them. They'll come back, but sometimes, I like to be without them.

Although, sometimes I need them because they stop me from missing you. But maybe missing you is alright. I smile and keep my eyes closed because it's raining on my face. The cold feels good for once, which is surprising, but not unappreciated.

I sit up. I wish you were here just so I could have a hug. But you probably wouldn't want to hug me since I've been lying in the grass in the rain.

"I miss you," I say aloud.

Someone laughs behind me. I stand up and you pick me up and spin me around, and it didn't matter that it's raining and I'm all wet and cold.

"I missed you too."

And I laugh.