I wish sometimes that I could find a permanent place in life. Somewhere where there is no doubt about my own existence. Sometimes I feel like no one sees me. I'm just standing in the middle of the school hallway, invisable, wondering, why the people keep passing by me, saying nothing. There's nothing to talk about. There's never anything to say. They don't want me. Unwanted. again. It's the story of my life.
It reminds me of all those times before. How I knew I wouldn't be one place for long. Everything was a haze. When mom and I were moving around a lot, I was in some kind of emotional box. How it kept me separate from everyone else, how I can't seem to get out. It's so confusing, just a few weeks ago; I was holding Jody's hand, socializing, being normal, being human. High school has it's own rigged class system, and I'm one of the untouchables. Scorn into proverty and pain for the entirety of my life. I look up and watch with eager eyes as all the nobal men and women prosper above me. Looking down at me in discust.
He's mean, why is he mean? He use to be so sweet. He went back on every word he gave to me. Now I'm pondering on my own mental stability. should I have trusted anyone to begin with? Probably not. The only rule I can live by now is to expect the worst, to ensure I too won't be disappointed when true colors are shown.
There is still so much I have to learn, so much life I haven't lived. I know the way the pages of my own book will fold, odd, different, strange like me; And so unbelievably unpredictable. I normally base my knowledge on what I've heard. I think that maybe I'll grow mentally. All I know is that I don't want to be heartbroken anymore. I'm sick of pain. The pain from losing Jared (the supposed "love of my life"), that won't leave. It's almost as if I'm Twilight with a bad ending. But if I focus on other things then maybe I can move on; for good this time.
As much as I still want to go back. I can't. Time is irreversible. You can't go back. It's impossible to even go forward as soon as you'd like to. And as much as I'd like to change so many things, I'm perfectly content the way they are now. In the way I've learned. I should have known better then to trust any of them. Especially not Jody: the boy who reminds me of my self. The boy that told me I never had to talk to anyone who hurt me again. Then hurt a month later. Now he won't talk to me. Did I hurt him?
Every moment is the end to another story. Sometimes we have to face that. Sometimes the main character doesn't have to die before the story ends. Sometimes all it takes is a good cover picture and a snappy tittle. It's because, the character is week; because the same old thing gets boring. Screens have to change, setting must be rearranged. Names can change; the people around that main person must change. The main person can be replaced, or even another could be added in. Or, you don't have a story at all. What's more is that characters must shift. There has to be more than one person in a story. Their stories counter act. They mix together, and fade into one. But no matter what they all had a different beginning and one person is meant to mend them all together. Who's that one person?
I was never meant to get passed the second chapter of anyone's book. That's why I've never really made an impact on many people's lives. Maybe I just think too little of myself, but… if you don't look at life the way you're supposed to. Then maybe there was never a story to begin with. I think of myself as something of a mental repulsive. My personality pushes people away. But my physical attraction makes them talk to me. Only when I open my mouth they run away screaming. Before everyone wanted a peace of me; now, I'm left behind. One of those discarded characters. But I want to be more. Sometimes I want to be the center of attention. But when I think about it… I really don't want the drama, or the actual attention; Just the thrill of having of people look at me. Which, is some form of attention I think.
Either way I don't entirely care about anything outside my own head. The physical world seems so unrealistic; it makes me want to puke. But I can't just get up and walk away from it. That's entirely impossible. All I can do is sit and watch threw eyes made of glass. Watch my friends and relatives go through ups and downs. Watch people grow. Watch drama unfold. No… I'm watching T.V. through these glass windows, eyes of mine.
I'm 16 here in this memory. I'm in Florida, with Jared and my mom. Only I feel alone because its late at night. Mom is passed out asleep with her glasses still on. The T.V remote in one hand. A still burning cigarette in the other. Her glass pipe, full of synthetic cannabinoids move up and down on her stomach, in deep arrhythmic breaths. This indicates heavy sleep. Jared is on the computer. Not surprising he normally is. Apparently I'm not much fun to talk to anymore. I remember a time when we were all happy. A time when neither of them, would ever let me sit alone like this. A memory, within a memory. But it's fleeting, and gone as soon as it had come.
Jared mumbles something about the bowl. I don't want to smoke with him right now. I don't want to smoke at all. But I stand, because I want him to love me, and I head toward my sleeping beauty. I grab the remote and cigarette from her hands as gently as possible, and then proceed towards the legal health hazard floating happily above her chin. Dear mom. Dear wonderful, crazy, beautiful, loving creature. You accept me for what I am. And for this, I will always love you.
"Hurry before she wakes up." Jared barks under his breath. I quickly and quietly make my way towards him. Taking drags off the cig. As I move. He reaches, and smiles a toothy grin as I hand him pure addiction. There was a time he smiled at me like that I'm sure. Or… wait is he smilling at me? I grin back feeling my heart warm under his loving gaze.
"I Love you." He says our foreheads almost touching. Now it seems to me like a joke. I know he loved me. I think. But after everything I can't believe it was ever true. Sometimes I think to myself "he only wanted some". But I think against it still. Weather its denial, or weather I'm as emotionally damaged as a WWII victim, I couldn't tell you. The thing is. This time he didn't want anything.
In one sudden motion he launched forward me pinning me to the ground. He covered my mouth with his hand and began to tickle the crap out of me. For us… For old us this was normal. Now we fight. Now nothing I say is right. Now I stay up crying at night.
I tried to fight back, using the wrestling moves he taught me, but nothing I did seemed to work. Soon I was pinned underneath him silently giggling with his face close to mine. I'd try to kiss him, but he'd then pull up, chuckling. A game. A silly, lovely game. One I silently wished would never change. I heard a laugh, as my mother threw a pillow in our direction. Slapping Jared in the face, and rebounding on to mine.
"Go to sleep you two." My mother mumbled groggily from behind, as we laughed; listening to my mother for the first time in a long time, also for the last time. That's exactly what we did. We went straight to sleep. But, when I woke up, He was gone.
It's the last happy memory of my shattered past. Three days later Jared broke up with me, Over a Facebook text: "There's no easy way to tell you this, but I'm breaking up with you. I have my reasons; you don't need to know why." ~Oct. 5, 2011.
Out of two years, all I seemed to deserve were two sentences. Two sentences, that both, broke my heart, and broke the future i had pre-planed for myself.