Never enough for you

Five

Two years later, the fear continues. Self-esteem untouched, chin up like always. But so many things make you feel bad when you're in high school. You learn to act like you're above it—try to, anyway—but it's still there, whispering in the back of your mind, making you wonder what people think, whether you're worth anything, whether you're just fooling yourself. I walk down these halls like I've got somewhere to be, like no one's going to bother me, but deep down, it's shaky. And I guess that's where I am now: head up, shoulders back, but a little too close to the edge.

High school's been... something. I go, I pass, I keep my distance. Mostly, I try not to think about how things are with my dad. I haven't lived with him since freshman year, when I finally moved in permanently with Mom. She isn't perfect, but at least she's not him. People don't really get what it's like to have a dad like mine—seeing him only a few times a year, feeling relief that there's so much distance between us, while also carrying this weird weight inside from everything he's ever said. The way he used to look at me, like I was some disappointment he had to put up with. I've carried that feeling for years, and even now, I can't shake it.

But no one knows that. At school, I've worked to build this version of me who doesn't need anyone, who isn't fazed by things. A Christina who's confident, who doesn't flinch. It's been going fine, mostly. Until... well, until now. Until I kissed a guy I thought I could trust, and now I don't know where things stand, and the uncertainty is gnawing at me.

His name's Jake Landry. It happened at a party last Saturday.

Everyone says he's trouble, the guy who doesn't stay around, the guy who's only loyal to himself. And honestly, I believed them, or thought I did, but then I started to see a different side of him. I guess that's how it always happens—someone looks at you differently, makes you feel seen in a way no one else does, and suddenly you want to believe they're different. So, yeah, I let myself trust him. Or at least, I started to.

I saw him across the room that night, leaning against the wall with that half-smile of his, the one that's equal parts arrogance and charm. I'd told myself I wouldn't let him get to me, but that look in his eyes, just for a second, had me forgetting all my promises to myself.

I walked over, casual, just wanting to talk. We'd been texting all week, and I thought things were going somewhere. So, when we started talking that night, it felt easy, like maybe it wasn't as complicated as everyone had warned me. And before I knew it, we were laughing, our arms brushing, and there was this moment where he looked at me, really looked at me. And I kissed him. I leaned in, and he kissed me back, his hand resting on my cheek, his touch warm, gentle, so different from what I expected.

The kiss felt real, like there was something there. But now? Now, I have no idea.

Since that night, I've barely heard from him. He didn't text the next morning. In the hallways, he glances over, maybe gives a little nod, but that's it. I keep replaying everything in my mind, wondering if he meant it, or if I read it wrong. I didn't think kissing him would make me feel so vulnerable, but here I am, overthinking every little thing, replaying it, wondering if he was just being nice. Or worse—if he was just playing along.

Every time my phone buzzes, my heart leaps. It's pathetic, really. I keep hoping it'll be him, that he'll want to talk about it. That he'll want to see me. But each time, it's just a reminder from the school app or some notification from social media. And he's out there, somewhere, probably not even thinking about me, while I'm here, turning it over and over, stressing myself out.

And this is why I hate it—the way guys can get into your head. I spent so long trying to keep my distance, trying to be the girl who doesn't care, who doesn't need anyone, but one party, one kiss, and now I'm all twisted up inside, waiting for a text that might never come. And the worst part? I feel like my dad's voice is in my head, telling me this is exactly what I deserve. Telling me I'm not worth someone like Jake actually caring.

By Thursday, I've had enough. I'm done wondering. I'm done feeling like this. If Jake doesn't care, fine. But I don't want to be the girl who sits around, waiting for someone to make her feel important. I'd promised myself a long time ago I wouldn't be that girl. And I'll keep that promise now, no matter how much it hurts.

After school, I spot him leaning against his car in the parking lot, laughing with a couple of his friends. I feel that familiar tug of frustration and longing, but I push it down. I walk past without looking his way, my heart thudding painfully in my chest, hoping that ignoring him hurts him as much as he's been hurting me. But I doubt he even notices. He's laughing, looking at his friends, not even glancing my way.

As I walk home, I feel that ache in my chest again, that disappointment mixed with anger, but I keep my head high. I remind myself that I don't need him. That I'm enough on my own. That he's not worth this energy. And if he ever realizes that he's the one who lost something, well, he can find me and tell me then. Until that day comes, I'm done waiting.

For now, I'll let it go. I'll let him go. And I'll keep walking forward, head high, pretending it doesn't hurt. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that I'm better off depending on myself. And maybe, someday, I'll even believe that. But what if im not enough for him?