In the 8th grade of school, a recess came to an end. I wanted to hydrate myself before the next class, so I went to the cooler to drink some cold water. Unexpectedly, a hand passed through my back, patting me with affection I'd yet to comprehend. I looked behind me to see a girl passing by, smiling at me, and moving on with her life.
That was my only communication with her, and yet, it was one of the most significant contacts I had in life, or so I consider it. I don't even know her name, and I think I forgot her name. She just wanted to show me her love; a love that got nowhere, and most likely never will.
I look at my coffee mug, and I just realized something. Perhaps I am trying to relive the same moment over and over again in the form of a stimulating drink?
I recall how awakened I was after that moment. It was strange, feeling loved, because, other than my parents, no one actually loves me, or so I believe to this very day. My deceased grandmother loved me, but she died a decade ago. and I've had little contact with the rest of my family.
Therefore, I can conclude that, aside from my parents, I am, in general, a pretty unlovable person. To be specific, I'm unloved rather than unlovable.
I don't know why I am unloved, as I am not villainous enough to commit heinous acts. I strive for good and for contribution, and yet, some people might hate me with burning passion, as I've witnessed myself online. I've no other life than this, and I'm too exhausted to fully operate in the world beyond my hermitage's walls.
Like when I was excited by the patting girl, I seek to imitate the same experience through coffee. I enjoy the thrill, the excitement, and the awakening; it reminds me of then, and it reminds me that I'm not just a shadow in the corner of the world.
I drink coffee every hour or two. Sometimes, when I finish my drink, I want more of it. It doesn't matter what time it is; what matters is my thirst to be more awakened; to not fall into the loneliness I've been experiencing all my life, due to my withdrawn nature.
Even a close family member admits that I have developed some sort of dependency on it, and he himself... I don't know if I should tell you, and I didn't get his permission, but let's just say he knows what he is talking about. I respect his privacy, so I won't go any further than our similar pasts.
I wonder if I will ever be loved again. Perhaps the need for coffee will decrease. I love coffee because I love feeling good, not because I'm tired. It seems to distract me from the fact that, overall, I'm a very lonely man, who often talks physically only to a single person on an average day.
I had a dream where I was being loved, and I was loving back. It was the only time I ever felt that, and it was in a dream, not in real life. Her name was Minerva, and I only recall cuddling together. I remember nothing else about her or the dream.
What I do remember, is this strange, intensified feeling of love, which resembled...