Every time.

"Every time I hear your name" by Keith Anderson.

I never thought I would truly understand this one. But it seems I do now. Select memories flash in my mind every time I hear his name. It's quite remarkable, really.

I think I'll write another story, tonight. Yes, I do believe that's what I'll do. Maybe I'll post it on here. I'm not sure. Depends how it turns out, if it turns out.

Songs to think of. Songs I think of.
"How do you get that lonely" Blaine Larsen
"But Tonight We Dance" Rise Against

The house is empty tonight. It's a very odd feeling, to not have to rush my way through things. To not have to worry about someone reading over my shoulder, seeing something they aren't supposed to be seeing. I still feel like I should be looking over my shoulder, though, checking behind me. It can't be this quiet. I feel very calm. I also feel like it won't take much to push me past that line, to bring a tear to my eye. I'm far too sentimental for my own good. Where happened to go my practicality? Hah. Out the window, along with C. Too much time away from his straightforward, no-nonsense words and I turn back into this rash, flighty creature. *gives tight smile* I'm not supposed to depend on someone, and I'm pretty sure I don't depend on C. being there anymore. I could, again, quite quickly. But at the moment, I don't. I learned from him, his words really made me think, but I started to give him ever greater importance, with each conversation, which is something I shouldn't have done. I suppose his absence has been a good thing for me, then. A learning experience.

Then again . . . no. I'm not going to say it. It wouldn't be fair. *shakes head*

It's odd. Sometimes, like now, my hand looks almost bony. It isn't. *scoffs* In fact, sometimes it still looks like a little kid's hand. After all, it's only grown a couple inches since I was in first grade. Small, childish, like me at times. *smiles, looks down* Clumsy on a piano, but magic on a keyboard. Stumbling in the kitchen, but swift with pen and paper. Ready to pose at a moment's notice, but shy in the spotlight, every word I write, every emotion I divulge.

I'll push you away if you know too much, and pull you closer until you do.

Guys always want to know what it is we want, I won't be the first nor the last to tell them, and I won't speak for more than me, but to keep it in the plural: we haven't a clue. We're just as confused as you are.