I can remember the days where I'd be smiling all day. Those were the days when someone would hold my hand. The days when we would kiss behind bushes. The days when I thought I could actually love someone. No more than two months later, those days came to a screeching halt. Misunderstandings tore us apart. I cried for hours. I don't know if he ever thought how much he hurt me. If he ever gave me a second thought. He cared more about his reputation than me. I let myself get too close to someone I should have known would hurt me. I see him every day now. He doesn't see me. I hear him talk about football and remember. I see the sheet metal store we used to walk past and laugh about. I still carry the rock I picked up on our first date. I want to throw the rock far away; over a bridge, into a dumpster, but I can't bring myself to.
All I want is for him to tell me what was going through his mind when I asked him to go on a walk with me and he answered by breaking up with me. I want to know who he broke up with me for. If I'm honest, I want CJ to slap him again.
I see happy couples everywhere. I have one waiting for me. Somewhere. He's waiting for me. I know his name. He cares about me. But life seems to want to keep me miserable.
Even my fanfiction is getting denser. Here is an excerpt from the last chapter of "Crashing And Burning":
Tears were coming to my eyes and memories were coming to mind. Memories I had pushed down and promised myself I would never bring up again. I hadn’t broken the promise. Jimmy f**king Page had. He dredged them up.
I started pressing a fingernail into my palm to fight back the tears. It was a strategy I had come up with to numb pain without slitting my wrists. When I started feeling a pinch in the nerves in my palm, I let off the pressure.
Man, you said you weren’t going to do that anymore. It’s gonna f**k up your hand.
“I don’t care. I don’t care.” I muttered. The flashbacks came vividly. Being pulled into a dark room. I couldn’t see anything; that was what was the scariest part. It was just sensations. The large hands on my body, poking and prodding, grasping and squeezing. If I fought back, there would be a stinging swat somewhere. If I fought back too hard, the belt was turned around and I would feel the buckle biting into the skin on my back. I learned to hold still. Make no noise, don’t move, it’ll be over soon. Over soon.
Over soon. “I thought it was over. It isn’t over. Why isn’t it f**king over?” I whispered, my voice cracking.
My heart just hurts. I hate that the only person I trust enough to cry in the presence of I haven't seen in months. I hate how I can't be my honest self with anyone. I hate the negativity that surrounds me every waking minute; coming from myself and the people around me. To combat the negativity, I just try to be a happy little sunshine at school, It doesn't work. Nothing works. The teachers are crabby, the kids are all "ugh, I hate school. I should just kill myself." It's really hard to keep a positive mentality when you're surrounded by that day-in and day-out.
I've been watching the same Rush movie as last night. Three hours now, and I've been crying off and on the entire time. Everything wonderful in my life was torn away. What have I got left?
If I could just, like, have a hug from CJ, that's all I need. I miss you, man.
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