Separated by a Screen (And Several Hundred Miles)

Chapter Four

When I woke the next morning, it was hardly even morning - it was already almost noon. Instinctively, I checked my phone, but, as you may have guessed, no one had texted me.

During school, all my "friends" were constantly texting - in the hallways, during lunch, in class; at any given moment, they were texting. Somehow, not a single one of these texts ever seemed to be directed towards me. Not that I minded - I always got nervous about it anyways, so I guess they were unintentionally saving me from an anxiety attack. Thank you, "friends."

Then again - if they didn't know what they were saving me from, were they still saving me? I had no clue. None of my "friends" knew anything about my anxiety - I certainly wasn't going to tell them. That's the thing about anxiety - as much as you want people to know, you never tell them, because after you do, you constantly think they are only being nice because of your "little problem." Then you feel even more messed up then before, and it does absolutely nothing to help you, in the end.

So, yeah. No one knew.

Groaning, I sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I ignored the fact that the world looked like a hazy blur - after 12 years of wearing glasses, you get used to it. I grabbed blindly at the table beside my bed until I found my glasses, then jammed them onto my face, getting a finger caught in the tangled mess that was my hair in the process.

You know how in movies, people always wake up looking absolutely perfect? Yeah, that's total bullshit. I always wake up looking totally frazzled, and not in the cute kind of way; more like the I-just-got-mauled-by-a-polar-bear kind of way. Short hair didn't help my naturally-horrendous bedhead.

Yawning, I got out of bed and, stumbling slightly, left for the shower.

~ ~ ~

By that night, I didn't even know why I bothered to check my phone anymore. Clearly no one was going to text me.

Okay, I lied. I know very well why I was checking my phone. But no matter how often I checked, it was always the same - no Twitter notifications.

I wasn't sure who I was mad at, to be totally honest; I wasn't sure if I was pissed off at Luke, for not answering, or at myself, for not letting it go and forgetting about him. I felt like a 11 year-old girl; I had only talked for him for ten minutes! It's not like we were suddenly the best friends in the whole world. I hardly would even consider us acquaintances.

Sighing, I checked the time on my phone before tossing it to the end of the bed. It was nearly midnight, but I wasn't at all tired, so I decided to work on homework. That put me right to sleep.