A Goddamn Tree
So, there I was again. Hoping for Alex to come back as fast as he could. I donít really like who he is, but I appreciate his presence. He barely talks. But he nearly interrupts me when Iím telling one of those perpetual stories he probably doesnít even listen to. And he wonít ever disrupt the silence I sometimes try to enjoy.
It might be strange, but I think heís my best friend. I donít know what he thinks about that, neither do I care. In times like this, where youíre food for everyone who crosses your road, you need a best friend. And I donít know anybody but Alex. So why not just make the best of it and see him as a friend. Who isnít really there for me, but who doesnít leave me either.
Iíve always wanted to know what Alex thinks of me, why he protects me, why he cares. But we barely see each other, and besides, I donít have the balls to ask him.
He wasnít always like this you know. There has been a time that he barely left my side. But that was way back in the time before I tried to talk to him.
I once asked him why he helped me finding my brother. That didnít turned out the way I wanted it to. He stayed quiet. For a few seconds, I thought he was preparing his answer. But I gave up on those thoughts when he left. Yes, indeed, he just left. He was gone for three days. I almost stopped hoping for his return. I thought he was dead. Or maybe just so surprised by me asking him something, that he just never wanted to see me again. But I was wrong. He did return. But he didnít came back as the Alex I knew before. He wasnít him.
He left me alone more often, I saw him even less then I got to see him before I dared to ask him that question.
And since that day, I do not dare to ask him anything anymore. Scared that he would leave me forever and I knew I needed him.
But still, I hoped that one day, he would revert to that question. That he would be ready to talk about his presence, about himself and about his past.
But hope just kept disappointing me.
I heard some leaves again, but this time, it didnít scare me. I knew it was Alex. It mustíve been him. It was around noon, so he would have killed something or someone we could eat and ripped itís body into pieces, unclear enough for me not to see what he had killed. I like how he never tells me what Iím eating. He knew I wouldnít eat it if he did.
ĎTime for lunchí, he would say. And then we would eat in silence and he would leave me again. Thatís almost exactly what happened. But for some reason, Alex talked. And believe me, thatís rare.
ĎYou should teach yourself how to fight, besides Iím not able to,' and that was all. Not another word before he left. Not even did he gave me the chance to say something back. He was gone before I could notice.
The rest of the day, I kept thinking about what he meant. Why should I learn myself how to fight? If he was not able to, how could I possibly be?
But anyways. I took out my knife. And tried to succeed where Alex failed. I could look for a zombie, but I would die if I practiced my skills on him. Skills? I donít even have them.
As I was standing in front of a tree, I thought by myself that whatever I was thinking, it was a stupid idea. But, I would not be me if I didnít do it.
ĎItís you and me, you lame ass treeí, I said tough. And I smiled because of the rhyme I came up with. ĎAnd donít you dare to call your friends for help, because they will not be able to hear you. And if they were? They would not come to help you, because, you know, no one loves you!í I looked at that goddamn tree right in front of me. ĎDonít you challenge me. You think I canít do it? Well, look at thisí, I said, doing nothing. ĎIím comingí, I said. But even the tree knew I wasnít. I kneeled.
ĎOkay, alright, Iím not doing it. And if I would? Your friends would want to help you, I know that. Theyíre just stuck. Because, you know, theyíre trees. At least they love you. In contrary to me, you can trust your friends, you can count on themí I cried. I laid my head against the tree. It mustíve been silly, me, talking to a tree and not even being able to hit it.
I looked in my bag and I found the diary my mom gave me years ago. It was hers when she was my age. She gave it to me, so I could learn how to... live. Not that that was necessary anymore, but I still loved to see her handwriting, read about her problems she had solved by herself and think about her. I loved to think about her.
My mom was so much like me. She had lost her parents when she was 14, so did I. She had the same hair and the same eyes. Except for her smile. I did not get her smile. And I feel kind of sad about that. Her smile was... beautiful, not another word could describe it. It was just beautiful.
I stopped thinking. I should get back to reality. Iím still here alone. I should be a little bit more aware of what Iím living in.
As Alex was not coming back for dinner, I started to have a feeling that he wasnít coming back, ever. And that was what he meant this noon. He couldnít learn me how to fight, so he didnít need me anymore. He would not longer save my ass. I would end up dead anyway. And thatís what the both of us never noticed, until now.
Well, what can I say? He tried.