Falling In Love Backwards (Teen Pregnancy)

It starts with a question and ends with a lie

“What are you thinking about?”

I really hated when someone asked me that question. It was like a ticking bomb waiting to combust. What was I thinking about? Every time a guy asked me that it was always the same thing. I thought back to that day, when I was twelve and taken to the doctor. I remembered his expression, twisted, like he wasn’t sure how to go about destroying a part of me.

It seemed every time I had sex now, for some reason or another, a guy always asked this question, and always when we were breathing heavy, taking a short break from the heat, and I was thinking about not what we were doing, or sharing, or even him.

“You,” I lied, the same response I gave to every guy. Then I’d place my lips over his in case he wised up to see if I was telling the truth.

But no guy ever did notice the difference in my answer. I don’t think any of them saw how it was the saddest part of my life. Having sex was like forgetting about the dreadful news, and at the same time it was reminding me of everything.

I let my memories dissipate for a moment, submerging myself in the temporary pleasure.

What are you thinking about?

I’ll tell you what I’m not thinking about. I’m not thinking about the pain, because when this is all over, and I realize reality has caught up with me, that means I have to start all over again.

And that might just be the part I can’t bear.