-five.
TV
ᴮᶦˡˡᶦᵉ ᴱᶦˡᶦˢʰ
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TV blasts through my earphones as a bit of cool breeze hits my cheeks. It's not autumn (I wish it was) but it has rained.
Sinking in the sofa as I thought about Christian. I don't know why I've had him on my mind so much these days but it's becoming hard to ignore the possibility of a slight crush.
I see him around campus and immediately look away. It stresses me out to think he can see me looking at him, and suddenly, I hate to be perceived.
And I don't get along with anyone, so most days I'm stranded, sat alone at lunch.
I'll say, Christian is captivating for multiple reasons. Yes, I think he's really handsome and charming but he's also so charismatic and outgoing.
I see him at his table, laughing with his group of friends. I look down at my hands, I'm sat alone. I gulp and exhale. Look back at him and at myself and at the difference between our worlds. What I'd give to be like him.
I'm analyzing his body language, his mannerisms, and how his face contorts. This hurts to confess, but I'm jealous. I don't know if I want to be with him anymore. Or if I want to be him.
To be something and yet be nothing at all.
I try to act normal but he's so fucking uncooperative when he walks up to me with his big smile and hi-fives me and I have to hide the red of my ears behind my equally as red hair and pretend like my hands aren't clammy.
"How's tutoring?"
What tutoring? Oh!
"Yeah it's...it's going fine"
"Glad to know. See you around"
And he leaves. I exhale again and awkwardly look down at my shoes, then I turn and watch him walk away.
My mom was in surgery today. It's 7 and I'm headed to see her at the hospital after my last class. It's late and I'm too scared to take the bus. Might as well just Uber there. So I do. Mom is pale and loopy from the anesthesia. Her nails are a tad bit purple and her pupils are dilated as she's talking nonsense.
She can't talk too much so she just lays quietly, staring at the crappy hospital room tv after going back and forth between the same three channels before leaving it on My Best Friend's Wedding.
I fiddle with my nails and think about today, swinging my feet as I hear Julia Roberts' voice coming from the TV. I don't like it but my earphones are dead and mom might need me.
For some reason, I think of Christian. His wide smile, his full lips, how his glasses fall upon the bridge of his nose, and how he pushes them up every now and then, so dorkily yet so nicely.
I think of his low chuckle and how he laughed at my embarrassment when I told him I hated math and he told me he's a math major. I think of his brown eyes, of the glint of interest he had in me teaching drawing. How we're both English teachers at rival places. I think of how handsome he is.
I think of him.
By the end of the week, Mom is back home and all better, life is considerably normal again, and by normal I mean heated arguments between mom and grandma. It's mind consuming how this shit happens weeky and it makes me wish I could run away and live somewhere else.
Did you know that the average decibels produced in New York City are from 85 to 120? That's approximately a constant scream. And maybe if I lived in a place that was constantly screaming, I wouldn't have to put up with the very audible constant yelling in my own house. Because if I were in a place that produced from 85 to 120 decibels on average, then every other noise would be loud enough to cancel out the ones across my kitchen table.
Lonely girl longs to be meaningful. Lonely girl longs to be loved. Books make longing seem romantic, but it's awful. It's greedy.
And I wear longing like a fucking veil.
