Hey, I was pretty upset last night so I sat down and wrote this out. It actually has nothing to do with why I was upset, which is what you'd think I would write about. Well, I didn't. Instead I wrote about my ex and what went down when things got rough.
I have no clue why I'm writing about this, or why I'm doing it now for that matter. We broke up last Monday, it's been a week and some days and I'm not that upset about it anymore. Still bummed, but not as upset as I used to be. Anyway, this story hits all the main points. Enjoy.
You know better than anyone that I hate staying after school, but I'll stay for you. Do my parents know about you? Well, I really don't know. They've seen us together plenty but never have they asked questions.
That's one thing I never quite understood about them; if I was my older sister even talking to a boy, trouble would be an understatement. Why is that? They're my parents; is this some way of showing me that they care less about me than they do her, or that they trust me more than they do her? Well, whatever it is, I don't plan on messing it up by asking.
We're in the band hall, for me, the worst place in the whole school. Just walking past this room sends chills down my spine. The memories of what a terrible marching season I had for a first year haunts me greatly. There's no place that drains me more than this room, not even a graveyard could depresses me more.
You pull out your clarinet and I groan loudly. You know I hate the sound of a clarinet more than anything. I've always been a sax lover, even though I play the flute. I don't even know why, but I'm sure it had to do with the fact that my beginners class was half-flute, half-saxophone. I guess I grew into the sound.
"Come on," I plead, trying my hardest to sound like those girls I label as whores on TV. "Let's go outside, let's go behind the concession stand out by the stadium." That was our spot; the only place in the school you could go and not be seen. That's another thing that annoyed me about the school, every room had a window and the halls were made entirely of glass. You could see everyone that walked past and hear everything they were saying. As if that wasn't enough, they added security cameras to top it all off.
You smirk, your braces appearing on your uncovered teeth. "Nah, I gotta practice."
I try my best not to seem hurt but it sure is hard. You look up at me and see that I'm upset. "We can go after this, I promise." You hold your reed out to me and, like always, I take it and put it in my mouth. Still, I have my arms crossed over my chest but you go back to assembling your instrument.
Without saying a word, I hold the moist reed out to you. You slide it on the ligature and tighten the screws, then the torture begins.
After sitting there for thirty minutes, listening to you playing your scales and arpeggios, you sigh and announce that you're done for the day.
"Finally," I whisper to myself. "Can we go outside now?"
You smirk again, "Yeah."
I love eating lunch outside. Even though it's windy, and I'm not eating. Today was one of those days where my stomach cramps and my back aches. You know what's up and you allow me to rest my head in your lap. These are the days that I want to sleep, sleep and let the pain pass while I'm unconscious.
The wind blows roughly and my bangs fall over my closed eyes. I feel you brush them off and I smile. Allowing one eye to peek open, I was "pleasured" to see an old teacher sitting on the other side of the courtyard, giving us a warning glare. She wasn't there before. I open both eyes and look up at you.
"How long has she been there?"
"Who," You ask. "Mrs. Sanders? I dunno, the better part of lunch. Why?"
"Why is she lookin' over here then? It's creepin' me out."
You roll your eyes, "Because it looks like your giving me a lickin'."
Immediately my face flares up. "Well, I'm not!" Ignoring my pains, I sit up and scoot next to you. Your arm is around my shoulder now, pulling me closer. "Besides, I wasn't even... you know, in that-that position!" Curse my stupid stuttering in awkward situations.
You're raising your eyebrow now. "Chill, I know what happened."
I bury my face in your chest, "Okay."
"I don't know about this, Missy. It just feels like we're going downhill and fast." I tell one of my best buddies. Her name is Marissa but I call her Missy because she can get pretty bossy at times. She's one of the only friends I have that are experienced in the "dating" category. All my other friends just guess.
"Well, have you talked to him?" I shook my head, no. "Then of course things are gonna fall apart."
"You don't get it, Missy, he doesn't care! I'm convinced he no longer cares!"
Our English teacher walked by and smiled at us. We were supposed to be talking about our literature book, about how the characters behaved in the story. It was pure luck that what we were talking about happened to relate closely to the story.
"Nice work, ladies," she offers, then walks to the next set of desks. On any other day, we would have looked at each other and laughed, but this is a serous conversation.
I lowered my voice and leaned in closer. "He doesn't care anymore, Missy. I told you about that guy on Twitter, right?"
"Okay, I told him about Zack. I told him that I was talking to him, I showed him my wallpaper, he listened to the song. Do you know what he did?" She was silent so I continued. "Nothing, he didn't do anything. Just changed the subject."
Missy tossed her blue-black hair over her shoulder, clearly at a loss for words. "Hmm..."
"I've gotta break up with him."
"No, don't do that!"
"There's no point in being together with him!" I snapped. "We're not doing anything in this relationship, it's just a fling!"
She didn't say anything after that. I only hoped she knew that my anger wasn't directed at her but at the situation. I looked at her and she smiled sincerely at me.
Monday morning, today was the day I would cut things off. I just didn't know when … or how.
"Hey," I call as you pass by. I really wish I hadn't though, I have no clue what I'm doing.
You smile, flashing your braces, and walk over to me. Whatever I plan on saying better come out right.
"Could we talk for a minute?" That's how I see it done on TV. I can't believe I'm basing this off of Degrassi. I'm sure that if I was pregnant, I'd base how I told you off that show too.
Your smile falters but anyone else wouldn't have noticed. We've been together for four months. I'm actually really happy that my first relationship was that long and really upset that it has to end.
"We're not going anywhere." I say, my back turned to face you.
"What?" You asked.
"We're not going anywhere; this relationship, it's not taking us anywhere."
"What do you mean?"
I swiped my eyes even though I wasn't crying... or I don't think I was. "I mean, we aren't doing anything. We come to school, kiss, and go home! What are we doing, huh?"
You don't say anything, but I feel you standing over me now. "I can fix it, we can work this out."
"We can't work it out. There's nothing to fix." Really, I had no clue where my stamina was coming from. I'm not the kind of person that can come up with things so quickly. But I guess it was my heart, everything I've ever felt towards the boy behind me rushing out.
"Esther..." He said, sounding broken.
I remember crying here. If there was anything I hated in the world, it was talking when I was this upset. Without another word, I quickly walked away.
As I walked home that day with my "Nigerian-sister", Spring, she filled me in on a story that I didn't particularly care for. I didn't even think she realized I wasn't listening. Clearly, she had no clue that I'd broken up with my first boyfriend but I had no intention of telling her myself. Then she would force me to talk about it and I don't think I could without breaking down.
When I got home, to say I was in a bitch-y mood was an understatement. I was beyond bitch-y, which was a strange thing coming from me. I usually like to leave all my separate lives just that, separate. I had a lot of lives. I had a Fanfiction life, a Twitter life, a Facebook life, a Myspace life, a school life, a home life, etc. I was the same person everywhere but, if something bad were to happen in one place, I didn't like to bring everyone else down with me. But today, I don't know, it was different. I was grateful that my family sensed this and left me alone.
"Hey, Tiny," I said softly, "Let me get on Twitter real quick." I knew if anything was going to make me feel better it was gonna be Twitter. More directly, Zack. He didn't always talk to me but just reading his random tweets could make me smile.
It worked, but barely. Not even going to my 'favorites' list and reading over my all-time favorite quote could make me feel any better:
"Zack looks ugly today," Said nobody
Even my chuckle sounded fake to me. I navigated my way back to the home page and clicked on the text-box.
Is he worth making my life miserable?
I sat there, watching the cursor blink in the box. It waited for me to type something in.
He isn't worth it?
Slowly, my mind tried to order my thoughts, tried to bring some type of conclusion out of all this.
He isn't worth it.
I sat up straight and typed out my exact thoughts at the moment:
I'm hungry. I'm gonna go make some eggs then go to sleep. Goodnight.
If I was going to get over him, I had to show that I didn't care.