This Can't be It.

I close my eyes and refuse to open them until my breathing slows. Until I'm sure I can handle the reality that I'm unsure what reality is. He puts his arm around my tiny shoulder, acting as if he really cares, or rather, understands. I doubt he does. I don't even. I can feel the moon shining on my face and arms and the sudden cold air resting on my head, but it doesn't startle me. It makes me feel something other than the extreme paranoia I'm used to. He asks me whats wrong, like my breakdown earlier that night hadn't shown him enough. I shake my head, and rock back and forth unkowingly. He sighs and from the way I can feel his arm move on my shoulder, I know he's shaking his head and getting up to leave. To leave me here. As his shoes hit the pavement quietly, I open my eyes for the first time in what seems like a lifetime. I don't see him look back, but still, I take in everything about what my eyes see. The night sky, dull and faded, the suburban street lights not helping to illuminate it, the grass on my lawn and how its managing to still look green in the darkness, and the back ok his head as he walks away. I'm not sure if he'll walk back here, but I can't think of that. I'm too busy finding out what reality means. This can't be it.