Blindsided

Part 1

Melanie

Fuck love. Seriously, who needs it? It's only a stupid distraction that fills our minds to mask the emptiness that we feel. It's a setup for even more emptiness, for when heartbreak occurs. By my standards, it's a complete and utter waste of time, although no one around me believes the same.

Most of my friends are tied up in disgustingly loving relationships, hell, one of them is married.

Although, I do think about love quite a lot. Not in a, 'I crave it and can't live without it' way, but more of a 'what allows someone to be so vulnerable to give away their heart?' type of way.

I think most of my mentality stems from childhood, when I always felt like I had to prove myself. I couldn't show too much emotion, as then I'd let my guard down, which could lead to me getting hurt. Kids are mean about everything, and being one of the few people of color at my school, paired with the fact I was adopted by 2 moms set me up for a lot of bullying. People wouldn't want to sit with me because I was different from them, or because their parents had told them not to. That's growing up in rural Kansas for you.

But, even after I moved to San Diego so my moms could be legally married, I still kept myself protected. Although the majority of people in San Diego were a lot more accepting of who my family was, I still felt like the best way to keep myself on the lonelier side of the scale. I only had a small group of friends in middle school, and that itself dwindled down to one or two people in high school. I used to almost feel bad about it, like I should have a massive group of friends who I do everything with, but over time I've learned to accept the best thing for me is to find a small group of people, and stick with them. 

"Mel, honey, are you nearly ready to go? Your plane's leaving in a few hours, we should probably head off." My mom calls from outside of my room. I close my journal, forgetting what I was writing, and throw my pen across the room onto my desk. I'll clean it up when I'm back in 6 months. Maybe.

"I'll be out in a second mom!" I cross the room, picking up my larger-than-life suitcase and small carry on back-pack, opening my door. I stare down at the long, winding staircase awaiting me, sighing as I pick up my suitcase by it's fabric strap. I haul myself and the bags down the stairs, my shoulders wincing as I reach the bottom step. I drop my bags to the ground, rolling my shoulders just as my mum turns a corner in the hallway, her car keys swinging in her hand. My mom then follows behind her, holding my 3 year old sister on her hip. To avoid confusion, my mum, Isla is originally from Northern Ireland, and my mom, Felicity grew up in a small town in Kansas where we lived for the first 10 years of my life. Neither one of them wanted to have children themselves, which is how my adoption came about. And more recently, why my sister Janey's adoption happened. 

I guess some people color me as slightly heartless for not wanting to be in love, cough Christian cough. But it's not that I want to be alone. No one who's in their right mind strives to be alone forever. It's more to spare my feelings, spare the rejection when whoever I'm with decides they're sick and tired of me.

"You ready to go Mel?" mum asks, coming up beside me and rubbing my back comfortingly. I smile tightly, nodding as I pick up my bags again. The four of us walk towards the front door, the hot sun hitting us as we step outside. I use my spare hand to shield my eyes as the sun reflects off of the car, nearly blinding me as I toss my bags into the trunk. I grab my phone out of my backpack before walking around to the backseat of the car, opening the door before sliding into the seat. Janey giggles from beside me, tugging on her pigtails as my mom straps her into her car seat. I reach across, squeezing her hand before I flick open my phone, my thumb clicking on my messages.

me: hey frogs, leaving for the airport now. let's hope this plane doesn't crash lol 🥲🛬🕳️

I lock my phone, only for it to buzz with a notification a few seconds later.