This is heartache. I think, sitting in front of the glowing screen with headphones in my ears. Something Corporate blaring louder than life in my ears.

It's always you, In my big dreams.

That's what he sings, and I wonder how he knows... knows the pain that is ripping my heart out of my chest. I clutch the side of the table with the fingertips of one hand, as if I'm desperate... maybe I am, curling up, fighting these tears that threaten to spill. Why do I have to be so alone? I pray, cry to God, Why do you torture me so? I plead to the one who created me; he already gave me an answer to my questions, but now my heart is bleeding. I feel like no one understands. Oh, the drama.

My legs are falling asleep. I shrug my shoulders, working at the kinks that have been building at school and ponder if I'm going back next semster, probably not...

And there was hope that I could take you there, But damnit you're so young.

Well, not the Winter semester, they don't offer any classes I have to retake... but... do I really want to go back in the Spring? I have to! I scorn myself, my foolishness. And all along I can feel this constricting pain inside of me, and wait for someone to wrap their arms around me and hold me like I was something dear.

And work! I sigh, I'll add more onto my work hours for the winter... maybe the summer depending on if Sara keeps her house that long or not. I'll take as little hours as possible over the Spring. It'll be a lot like the Fall... I'm gonna end up killing myself. I talk myself through my life for the next year, dying on the inside.

My Konstantine came walking down the stairs, And all that I could do was touch her long blond hair.

Then she walks in, a crowd of boys at her beckon call. All love her, all want her, and it burns me deeply. Why is it so easy for her? I hiss in my head, the lyrics wrapping around my mind so seductively, reminding me of kisses and hugs, of love and needs I haven't experienced yet. The glow from the screen is trying to stroke my face, to keep these new tears from welling in my eyes. Am I just so unlovable? I moan in my mind, pulling my hair out of the tie that contains the darkened blond/bronze locks to hide my watery eyes.

And all this time, my heart is swelling with loneliness and waiting to burst and explode with the pain I hold inside. But I just crouch lower in my seat, curling further into myself. There's solace in that, you know. I sigh. I just want a man to hold... to care.

I'm not your star, Isn't that what you said, What you thought this song meant?

I sigh, closing my eyes tightly, mouthing the words in time to the song, re-adjusting an earpiece. What am I doing after this year? I wonder, recovering from my earlier spell of jealousy, feeling guilty for it. One of the boys walks up to me, giving me a hug, shocking me out of my thoughts. I return the hug, then self-consciously tug at my overly large shirt... the kind I normally wear. He smiles and waves as he walks away. I act like my heart isn't currently experiencing a melt-down and smile and wave back, probably saying something snide or witty that is so automatic for me.

I think I'm going to get in my car, with all my money, and drive. I state wildly to myself. Drive where?! I argue, damned my rational side. Anywhere. And the glow around that answer stains my mind and I dream of some life where I am gone, living simply, living wonderfully, living without this pain. With this pain? But it is tainted by the reality that knows I can't do this, so the joy of my wonderings cannot be complete, and it hurts in a different way than the love I've bottled up for eighteen years.

I imagine returning home at twenty-one, maybe finishing college? Do I care? I just want to be a mom, always have. Write these silly stories and poems on the side, continue to draw... maybe finally figure out how to scan my pictures without messing them up, or get better programs for the drawings... Maybe having my first legal drink of alcohol, though I've tasted enough when I wasn't legal to know I hate it, except for the really sweet stuff, like cheap, cheap wine and pina coladas. The stuff that covers the taste and almost the smell, but not completely, it's always there behind the sugary liquids that ice over my tongue.

And all the while I can feel this expansive area inside of me, and I wonder just how long it will take someone to fill it. And then I feel bad, because Jesus is supposed to come first... And he does! But it's not the same as having someone special meant just for me. And then I think, Am I sinning?

Just to lie with my mistakes, and live with what I did to you, all the Hell I put you through.

I lean back, stretching my tingling legs, noticing how badly I need to shave. I'm impressed though, after a month the hairs are only, maybe, and eigth of an inch. Probably less than that, but I suck at mathematical things. I move my shoulders again, the fever is still there, it's kicking my butt badly. I get into a coughing fit, then recover, drink some water that tastes bad because the ice melted and it's warm and medicine sweet now. I quickly return to my previous position. The tingling not completely gone out of my left foot and in a masochistic kind of way I like it. I stare at the screen intently, and begin to think of the one who is partially responsible for the emotions I'm feeling, going over the conversation we had that sparked the whole thing.

I giggle at a line I said, "God gave Adam Eve, not Eve, Amanda, and Elizabeth." Not a particularly clever line, nor very stand outish. It doesn't really make since unless you knew we had been talking about 'soul mates' or 'a person just for you'. Your destined one, blah blah blah. He actually remembered the line and used it again later in our...'debate'? 'Conversation'? The latter covers it better, he didn't really argue with me... though I would have preferred it, just a little.

I giggled a little harder remembering when he had elaborated on one of my explainings, "If the bank is robbed, Eve turns into Amanda." I had laughed in the truck too, a bit surprised, I didn't know he was really paying attention.

This is to a girl, Who got into my head, With all the pretty things she did.

I sat back in my chair, the headphones going taunt, I frowned. It's his fault. I shook my head, No... it's a little his fault, mostly your own, you stupid girl. And yet, I can't make myself any happier. I looked out the window, I wish someone would just sweep me away... profess his love, another dimension open and suck me into it. Happily Ever Afters always happen in different dimensions... or when the lady suddenly is transported to a different world and is forced into a situation of dire need. The man of her dreams usually shows up and saves her...

I snap out of my daydreaming when my stomach growls, which is a sad thing because my fever refuses to let me eat anything. I take out my headphones, pausing the music long enough to get a drink and abate the dryness in my throat that's threatening to make me double over in a coughing fit. I place the headphones back in and think of what schedule for Spring semester I should go with, angrily brushing at the tears.

Does every girl go through this? I contemplate, nudging at the aloneness inside of me with the wonder that seems to taint everything I say or think.

And you'll kiss me in your living room...

I sigh as the song ends, completeing my emotional state, though I still feel like crying, though I still feel like screaming to God and asking him why I must be so lonely, so tortured, and why it was fair. But she walks in, the gang of men-boys, for they are in that stage, follow her, some getting a drink of water, straying from her side just long enough. I look at the crowd. Some of them are attractive, some aren't. Physically, but most importantly, personality/emotionally wise I mean. And I'm serious, when a man is attractive, but has bad habits, he isn't attractive anymore. That's just how it works for me.

I take out the headphones,

'Cause these nights I think, Maybe that I miss you in my living room...

I stretch my sore body, both from fever and exhertion. The doctor wouldn't give me anything for my two week old illness, and I hurt everywhere from the constant fever and body shaking coughs. And I'm tired. So very tired. I listen to the group in the bonus room, I wonder why I don't have a shoulder to lay my head on.

Some people say I do, but I don't, not really. Not in the way I mean, even though they offer with the best of intentions.

I push my chair in,

I said does anybody need that room?

I still feel so empty, so hollow, and I know it won't go away. I stare at the screen longingly. Don't therapists and counselors swear by this crap? I spit venemously, in my mind of course, I've long lost faith in people who are there to "help" for pay. It's twisted and untrue.

I brush my hair out of my eyes, once again wrapping it in a loose bun, waiting for it to get just a little longer. I sigh, imagining that he would be giving me a goodnight hug, or praying with me, because I've decided not to kiss anymore. I went too far with my last boyfriend... with kissing, I mean. And I would like to be pure at the altar so I could wear white without lying. In cold reality, I'm pressing the save button on the bottom of the screen and adding the document as a new story that someone will read, and maybe it will move them because they understand.

Maybe it won't because they aren't in this position. I wonder what kind of colone he would wear.

I shut off my laptop, close the silver top of it with a gentle click. My world to you, Dearly Beloved Reader, has just been severed. Another wonder and pain to me, and I imagine how you would take all this information, who you must think I am, how pretty or ugly I am in your mind's eye.

I wonder, above all else, if you understood the importance of this short story. And then I imagine what he would look like, and why he can't be with me now instead of later.

But God already gave me his answer.

My Konstantine...