Hope

Chapter 9

Humans were things of want. It had long been one of the main indicators by which I could be sure I really was one. There were other things, too— far be it from me to make Plato's mistake— I needed stimuli for the mind, food for the body, and sometimes (rarely) that body repaid me for it's endless upkeep with sickness, for which I'd need a medicine. Those things though, sticky little needs, tracked perfectly with those of the people around me. I needed like they needed, varying only in quantity and likelihood to whine about it.

It was always my wants that never lined up. Why was beyond me and it was only a small consolation that it was beyond everybody else, too.

The summer before senior year is fun-- I hang out with people nearly everyday, and get a job in a restaurant by the oceanside which is beautiful, especially when the sun's setting over the cusp of the mountains. I burn the photos I had on my wall that have Mara in them at a bonfire with the year's school work, and fold up Sarah's to put into my yearbook. I date a couple girls here and there but none are.... we don't click very well. I get my licence, and also total my moms car in one go which I take responsibility for-- like the DBT skills that have permanently alter my brain force me to do like an aunt pinching a chubby cheek.

And I want, want, want more than ever before.

Though there's no peace bond anymore, me and Sarah drift further and further. Because she has a boyfriend now-- and I don't know what he looks like. But he's a year older than me, and. apparently treats her well, and her family adores him which is great. It doesn't make me want to shove a fork into an outlet at all.

And we've gone steadily from smiling at each other in passing to both hurrying past without a glance because its awkward-- its so fucking awkward because I know some dark twisty part of me still wants her and its not funny anymore, because I see her when I least want to and the first time I saw her boyfriend, be it the back of him hugging her by the stands which was our spot I almost actually slit my wrists. And I want her, and I want more drugs and more alcohol and more recklessness to make up for the loss of my high school experience. 

Most of all, I want to thank her for loving me when I still tasted of heartache and war.

Want, want, want. I swallow something akin to a tearless sob, my fingers rapidly shooting across the worn, letter-less and half stuck keys.

Im doing my band homework in the stairwell, where the acoustics are better and the sun shines through the high slats in sheets of orange and green today. Ive taken to being everywhere but in my allotted classrooms as of late, and no one pesters me for it. I'm supposed to be composing something, I think, though I'm not really sure and the heavy school-appointed laptop is burning through my thigh from the effort it's putting in to just stay from sputtering out smoke and dirt. It's all glass in this stairwell, and all warmth, and no one goes down here which makes it optimal conditions to relax when you're blazed out of your mind. 

Except, today. Because for some karmic reason, God has decided to send Mara my way after months of relative peace, if not by a random callout through throwback photos posted online or a collective snapchat.

She opens the door that groans with the summer heat sticking to its hinges, sees me, and grins. What strange look lurked in the middle of junior year, is fully born now. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown and cheeks flushed feverishly out of something that her smile makes look both ornery and enraged. I bite back the urge to curl my lip at her or hiss, dropping my eyes back to the laptop.

"Thought I heard your dulcet tones down here."

I offer a tight lipped smile in response, refusing to look at her and pray that the fans on this laptop burst through the screen and shred me to ribbons.