We're Not Really Strangers. || DNF

four: true feelings..?

The next day, I awoke from my horrible nightmares.

Then I realized something from those dreams.

As much as I needed George, he didn't need me.

He never needed me.

I knew deep down I loved him, but I really didn't think I was in love with him.

More in a loving way of friendship.

But boy how wrong I was.

And how damn stupid, too.

I picked up my phone from my bedside table, and texted the contact "Georgina :]"

He hated the name Georgina. Which is why I called him it.

"Hey Georgina!"

"Don't call me thattttt hahaha"

"shush georgina, you know you like ittt"

"i suppose your correct, huh?"

"i guess i am right— LMFOA"

"so.. why'd you just decide to text me dreamy weamy?"

Shit. Butterflies.

"i don't knowwww i wanted to talk to someoneee i'm bored or whateveerrrrr!"

"want to come over then? we can play mc..!"

"sure georgie that sounds great."

"i'll be there in about an hour."

"okayy!"

Great. I just accepted an offer without thinking.

Now I had to fit it into my schedule. It wasn't like I was busy, it was just..

This was my first time going out to see George.

I've seen him in person in school multiple times! That wasn't what I was worried about.

I got out of bed, this was the first time this weekend.

It was Sunday, I haven't gotten out of bed since Friday.

But I felt fine. Like I wasn't sick, and I didn't feel hurt.

It was all in my head.

I pulled a shirt out of the pile of laundry on the floor.

I smelled it, and it smelt like nothing.

I took off the black band t-shirt I have been wearing for 3 days straight now.

I slipped on the t-shirt from the pile.

It was plain gray with bleach stains.

I kept the same jeans on. That didn't matter, like, I didn't piss in them, my ass smelt fine, so changing isn't a big deal.

I took a brush to my hair, it was a tiny bit messy, but other wise, it was fine.

I walked downstairs, my mom was sitting in the kitchen.

"Hey, Clay.."

"Hi."

"You don't look so good.. There's bags under your eyes, and you've been getting super skinny. Are you okay? Do I need to call Dr. Delilah?"

I shook my head no.

Dr. Delilah was my therapist or as I called it since I was young, my thoughts doctor.

"Well.. If you don't want to see her, where are you going all dressed up? With a girl..?"

"No, mom. I'm going with a friend, his name is George."