Those Who Save Us

She's strange. She's really, really strange and there's no way that anybody could ever possibly even attempt to deny it. She's the kind of beautiful girl that you know is just never going to be popular, partly because she's never going to want it and partly because none of them would ever have anything to do with her.

She's strange but so are you.

You're the girl who sits and draws little pictures of all the ways the world could be perfect, even though you know perfectly well that it's never, ever going to end up like that. You're the girl who spills all her emotions onto little pieces of paper like blood from somebody who's faking everything and the lie's gone too deep and the blood's never going to come out even once they're gone. You're the girl who sits around and ponders time and all the clocks and all the numbers and letters and the words they make and all the stupid people all around you and you wonder just who made them so important in the first place?

She's the girl who sits there and you can feel her eyes burning into the back of your head but you've never really had the courage to turn around and meet her gaze. You're too scared she's going to see you instead of all your drawings and the essays you write and the ways your clothes make you look like you have the most perfect curves and that none of that's going to mean a thing anymore, because she's going to see you and you're not going to be enough.

And fine, maybe you're just a little bit crazy that you think that you have your own secret little romance with the girl that sits behind you in all your classes even though you're pretty sure she's never even seen her face, and anybody else would tell you that you should be checked into a mental institution as soon as possible, but it's just you in your own little over-observational world.

She looks at you. That's that. She looks at you and there's no way anybody could ever tell you otherwise. That's just how it is. That's how it's been for the longest time and that's how it's going to stay and if it doesn't, you're sure your world's going to spiral out of control because more than anything else, you need something stable and right now she's the only thing that hasn't toppled down yet.

Everything's changing and everybody's changing and your whole world's turning around and inside out and you're scared that you're going to come out of all of this and you're not going to have any bearing on who you are anymore. Your parents don't live together and you're in some new school and there's all these people around you who don't know anything about you that you don't want them to know and you really can't think of a single thing that's stayed the same for more than a couple of months.

But there's her. She's there. She's been there and she's stayed there and she's there right now, staring at the back of your head while you take your bio notes and you push your bangs absently out of your face and you wonder again if she's ever seen your face and you think again that you don't want her to.

You want her to, oh god you do. You want to catch her eye and you want to know everything about her from that one stupid glance and you want to have your own amazing love story for once, instead of listening to everybody else's. You want for your stupid little words to finally mean something in the real world and you want all your hoping and your wishing for somebody to care about you to finally amount to something but you know too much now to think that everything you wish for is going to come true.

It's a nice fantasy though. It's something nice to think about before you go to sleep and she's a nice person that you can pretend you're holding and god, she really is beautiful, isn't she?

God, where did that come from? You don't know her. You barely know a thing about her except the things that everybody else tells you about her and what she looks like and the way she always lags behind everybody else she's with and the way she stares at you. And you really, really can't get over that somebody you'd look twice at is actually interested. She sits there and scribbles out song lyrics on her paper and she's everything you've really ever wanted in a girl and all of a sudden you've got it.

Oh, shut up, you don't have anything except your fantasies and your wistful thinking and you're never, ever going to have anything else, especially not considering everything you've done so far to get her.

You're staring at the clock in the corner of the room above the cheap wood door, because that's another thing that you just do. You love bio and you love this stupid room and the stupid teacher, but you want to get out. You feel like somebody's choking you and this stupid room is just suffocating you and you want to be out right now.

But then it's over.

It's over and everybody around you is standing and then you're standing too and you're turning around and she's there and she's looking at you, textbook and notebook under her arms and she's got this nervous smile and you're smiling the same nervous smile back at her.

She's got green eyes, you're realizing. She's got the most beautiful green eyes and you're staring right at them and she's mesmerizing and she's so absolutely stunning.

And then it's over and you're out the door and she's probably right behind you and it's over and it was so, so short but it's something.

She's something special, you're realizing. She's special and she's sort of perfect, really, and you just want to sit here and stare at her forever because she makes you feel something and that something's so much more than any of the same old people around you have been able to make you feel for so long, and she does it. She's a little light over the hell you're confining yourself to and maybe she's enough, because it really has been getting to be just too much.

And through the crowd you're feeling somebody's hand brush against yours.