The Lesson You've Become

4

When I walk down the streets at night and see the lights illuminate the dark streets and the buildings illuminate the parts that the street lights couldn't, I take each street lamp as some kind of checkpoint and as I remember as much of my life as I can, each street light I reach is one more year I must think back to.
I can never make it past thirteen street lamps before having to stop and sit down.

I used to do this, but with my future. Back when I was twelve, I would skip along the street lights and once I exceeded twelve street lights and reach thirteen, I'd think of what my life would be when I'm thirteen. or-- really, what I wanted my life to be.
The amount of freedom I wanted once I reached my teenage years was beyond what I really got.
Once I was fourteen, I would stop at fourteen street lights. I didn't want to predict my future. I didn't want a future. If I were to walk along a path where I can stop at the age where I stop living, I would've stopped at fourteen. My main reasoning for that was.. everything.

Now four is my lucky number.
Fourteen, Forty, Forty-Four, the Forth of July.
But for a solid few years, four was the number I wanted to avoid.
I was always debating suicide. When I woke up, when the sun lit my face, when I got my makeup done, when I walked past marble floors, when I looked up at chandeliers and wealthy lifestyles, I always thought: If I die and this is all given to someone else who deserves it, I would grab the knife immediately and dig it into my heart so fast that the definition of love flees my mind so fast I don't even know what love means in my next lifetime.
I never wanted to know what love was. Ever. It was the last thought in my mind. Only the most evil people deserve my love, because my way of loving people is destroying myself and watching them fix me. No one could ever fix me.

I remember watching my band members fight while I sat there with both hands on my lap and my toes on the floor and my heels in the air so my thighs don't squeeze down and increase in size. I was always asked why I do that. I said it's just comfortable that way.
Tom sat down next to me and did the same.
".. No it's not. How is this comfortable?" He exclaimed, looking at me like I'm crazy. He placed his feet down onto the floor again. "This is better. You let your legs rest this way. You're psychotic if you think that's more comfortable. Do you sleep standing up?" He said a bit teasingly, scoffing with a soft laugh in his huff. "Leave her alone, she doesn't have to be JUST LIKE YOU." Sofia exclaimed, pushing Tom slightly. Irritation set into Tom's face, as he stood up and pushed her back, making sure he pushed her harder. I don't know what happened after that. I stopped paying attention.
I didn't consider them as friends, necessarily. Not because they were mean. They weren't distant. They were band mates, just that. I didn't know what friends did, I didn't know what they were supposed to be. I wasn't a friend to them, so they weren't a friend to me. I benefit them in no way other than adding more into their instrumentals for their silly little songs that they just make for fun. It won't go anywhere anyway, so why put any more dedication than I did now? Even though they check on me.. And make sure I eat.. And constantly make sure i'm not too hot or too cold.
The reason I denied them as friends is because they were too caring for me. I found myself accepting people who treat me like shit, because I couldn't seem to know what to do when people treated me well. I didn't deserve the good treatment. It made me weaken my habits.

" we accept the love we think we deserve "
- perks of being a wallflower (2012)