[18+ ONGOING]
Josephine Devereaux has spent her entire life wishing she liked change & spontaneity. But when she gets accepted into Southern Chicago U's forensics program, change suddenly isn't so scary. Fast forward two years- she's a junior at the...
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I can't remember the last time I went an entire day without silently begging God to fix whatever the fuck was wrong with me.
I was an atheist.
So it was a pretty ironic situation.
One I found myself in every single day.
I wondered if anyone else ever felt that way. I mean, I'm sure they do. I'm sure I know lots of people who think that often as well.
But I truly believe I'm the only soul on this planet who has consistently asked a God she doesn't believe in to fix her every. damn. day.
If there's one thing I was, it was consistent.
I liked consistency. Frankly, I fucking loved consistency. I loved waking up in the morning knowing it would be night in about 10-12 hours. I loved waking up on Tuesday mornings knowing I was going to go to the gym. I loved coming home on Fridays knowing that Cal would be baking. I loved seeing Blanca on campus knowing she'd be wearing the color black. I loved seeing Serena knowing she would be smiling when I saw her. I loved knowing that on breaks, I'd go home. I loved knowing that home inside and out, knowing that it was the only home I'd ever known. I loved knowing that my mom didn't want me and never would. I loved knowing that even on my worst days, I was still lucky enough to be pursuing a field that would indefinitely cheer me up. I loved knowing that my dad would probably support me no matter what. I loved knowing that I was old enough to go get a beer whenever the fuck I wanted to. I loved knowing that I had purchased all of my favorite movies and could watch them whenever I wanted. I loved knowing the sun rose and set. I loved knowing that a year was exactly 525,600 minutes. I loved knowing that if I did a calculus problem, there was one right answer that I'd probably get. I loved knowing that the only person that could truly hurt me was myself. And I loved knowing that the only person who could truly crave my presence—was myself.
I'd spent twenty-one years on this earth loving all these things.
But today, Beck had told me that he wanted to be around me. That he wanted to stop pretending that he didn't. Which meant all this time, I hadn't been a bitchy burden.
The worst version of myself, the version of me that I'm most ashamed of, the version of me that I swore had no possible way of not making someone hate me. I was so confident in it. I mean, I had every right to be. After all, it's not like many people had proved me wrong.
Especially people who had an interest in being more than friends.
The one thing that kept me safe all these years had finally met their match.
And I was fucking terrified.
It was times like these that I quietly wished for my mom. Quietly, meaning in my head. I felt like acknowledging that I missed her was a disservice to myself. I was scolding myself.
Times like these, Friday afternoons after Beck walked me home and Cal made brownies. Times like these, where despite that, I still found myself lying on my bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Where events that would make any normal girl happy and giddy, made me spiral. Where I lie in the dark, resenting myself for knowing that I was the only thing keeping me from being happy.
