I looked at Alan's deep blue eyes and striking smile; I, Lindsey Waller, was absolutely and inevitably in love with Alan Samuels.
I stopped staring at Alan and turned my attention to the flowers outside the small, quaint bookstore, in which I spent a majority of my Friday afternoons. I picked up a copy of The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I compared myself to Jay Gatsby; you could give me all the money in the world, and I still wouldn't be happy unless I had Alan to share it with. A wave of sadness came over me and all the sudden it was like I was drowning, except I could see that everyone else was breathing fine. At once, I felt like the whole town of Rosewood was staring me in the face and laughing until their faces were red. Alan would never love me, I told myself. Alan was smart and charming and wonderful and so much better than me. Alan was going places in life. But in the small town of Rosewood, Pennsylvania, a person like me could never go anywhere. Rosewood is the kind of town that imprisons people like me; it engulfs us. It swallows us up and consumes us so that we can never leave. we just stay trapped forever longing for a way out. I started to panic, so I got in my car and drove.
I felt no better in my therapist's office. I had always liked her office, but it didn't have its usual calming effect. "I j-just..I can't..I..," I stammered.
"Calm yourself. Slow your breathing," she spoke in the soft and quiet way that would usually help me calm down until I was able to explain myself, but today, it just made me more nervous. I could feel my breathing get faster and my heartbeat was radiating in my knees. My vision got cloudy and I was lightheaded, and in that instant, all I saw was black.
I woke up in the dim light of the Rosewood hospital. A nurse walked in after a couple of minutes. A little disoriented, I asked "Where are my parents?" When I say Parents, I mean my aunt and uncle. This is the fifth year I've been living with them, and although they aren't my real parents, they've been better parents than my real parents.
"Oh, you're up. They're in the waiting room. They must have fallen asleep. Do you know what happened?" she replied.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I fainted," I answered warily. She then disappeared into the long, sterile hallways of the hospital. My mind wandered to Alan. Alan was always so kind. Alan was also funny and smart and an individual. But the thought of Alan leaving me behind didn't hurt as much when I was drifting slowly into a deep sleep.
I woke up in my room at home and I found myself to be hopelessly hungry. I proceeded to the kitchen and made two pieces of toast. There was a shooting pain in my left elbow and I had an agonizing headache, so I groaned pretty loudly, assuming nobody else was awake. I walked into the living room and saw my aunt Lizzy watching TV and eating cereal.
"Hey," she said, immediately turning her attention away from the TV as soon as she noticed my presence.
"Hi," I replied. I felt underdressed, noticing that Lizzy was wearing actual clothes and I was in my fleece Ninja Turtle pants and a long sleeved T shirt.
" Hey Liz?" I asked.
"Hm?" she replied, half listening to me.
"Is my mom making any progress? Has she relapsed?" I asked, afraid of the response. Liz didn't say anything; she just looked at me sympathetically. "Oh," I said, looking down at the floor.
Almost instantly, I was back in the bedroom of the old condo that mom and I lived in a little before I came to live with Sean and Lizzy. I was with the only brother I had that wasn't given up for adoption; I had locked us both in the bathroom. Outside, I could hear my mother scream and curse and threaten her boyfriend, my brother's dad. Little Adam was only a year old, and I was seven. Adam was crying and wailing and I couldn't think about my feelings; my first priority had to be my brother. I was trying to comfort him and make him stop screaming, and then I heard my mother cry out for help as her boyfriend started to choke her; I didn't know what to do. I was too scared to go out there, for fear that he would hurt me too. There wasn't a phone in the house and I had nowhere to run. True panic set in, and I didn't know what to do. My mother could die out there. I was just a scared little kid. Nowhere to run, nothing I could do.
I snapped back into reality, and I realized how hard I was clenching my fists; my hands were white. I ran up to my room, and the tears streamed down my face. why didn't mom think about what she was doing? why didn't she think about what it would do to me to witness all that? I hadn't seen her or my brother in two years. Maybe I couldn't change my own past, but I loved my brother too much to just let him live with my mother while I was safe and sound at Sean and Lizzy's.
I remember one time she and Adam's father were fighting in my room. I looked into my mother's eyes and didn't see a mother; I saw an addict. I had begged many times for them to try to get Adam to live with us too, but my mom would never sign the papers. It absolutely killed me to know that he was living like that. All I wanted was for him to be safe. He deserves a better childhood. No one deserves the kind of life I've had to live. Adam was all I had to live for. I looked at the cuts and burn marks on my skin. I have to stop doing this to myself, I thought. I was only a week clean. I hated that I was able to break so easy, at just the sight of a lighter, blade or razor. I wished I was better than that. I wished I could look at something really sharp and not break down. I wished I could smile without it hurting so bad. I just wish I had a normal family and a normal life. Is that too much to ask? Is it too much for me to want a life like everyone else's? Why did I have to be the kid who got bullied all the time? why did I have to be born into my family?
It was getting harder to hide my scars; the other day it was 80 degrees and I wore a hoodie. We had to run laps outside for PE, and I was dying inside that hoodie. I started to feel light headed, so I had no other choice; I had to take that hoodie off. Ten seconds, I thought. Ten seconds and that's it. I came to a stop on the track, and slowly took off my hoodie, feeling the cool air on my shoulders. I counted steadily to ten and rushed to get my hoodie back on, but it was too late. Kids had already crowded by where I was standing. oh no, I thought. someone's gonna tell the school counselor and they're going to send me to a mental health facility.
As the panic started to set in, I was relieved to hear the coach's voice booming at the other kids "I see a lot of standing, but not enough running." Everyone quickly darted away, and I bolted for the door.
On Monday, I spent first period locked in a bathroom stall. I was deathly afraid that someone would tell the school counselor. I didn't want to go to Vista Health. I mean, I really didn't want to go to that place. They say it just makes you more mentally unstable. It didn't help that everyone was talking about it and by lunch everyone between Rosewood and Mexico would know that Lindsey Waller had a self-harm issue.
I eventually forced myself out of the tiny bathroom stall a little before the bell rang. You know that feeling, when you walk into a room and you realize that everyone was just talking about you? I felt so humiliated. As I pushed through the crowds of people, Alan caught my eye; stunning as usual. But I couldn't think about Alan right now; I would have another breakdown if I even considered Alan's existence. I did NOT want to break down again, and especially not in the halls of hell (I refused to call it school; school wasn't accurate enough.). I walked quickly to my next class. It's only one day, one twenty-four hour period I have to get myself through.
Twenty-four hours is a very long time.
Later that night, after I cooked dinner (both Lizzy and Sean had no cooking ability whatsoever.), I went up to my room. One week and two days. It wasn't much, but it was a start. I turned on Pandora and clicked on my favorite radio, and Scar Tissue by the Red Hot Chili Peppers came on. I find it amazing how I can connect to this song. I didn't realize how tired I was until it got to my favorite part. With the birds I'll share this lonely view...
The next day was harder than the one before. The questions, people hounding me for information. Well, it wasn't the questions that hurt me, just the answers. I stumbled through the halls to my next class. I walked through the door and took my seat next to Madelyn. I didn't really know her that well,but she seemed pretty nice. Mrs. Staley stood at the front of the classroom and began to call roll, reading the list of names monotonously. All the sudden, my ears perked up. "Miss Alana Samuels?"
"Actually, it's just Alan," She replied.
That afternoon, I ran straight up to my room and immediately turned my music on and the world off. I couldn't believe how I could get so lost in the music like that. Sing another song and make me feel like I'm in love again...1
My thoughts drifted to Alan. I thought of her eyes. They were like little blue oceans that I couldn't help but get lost in, Framed with a thick, dark fringe of lashes. She never wore makeup; she didn't need to. I loved each and every little imperfection about her.
Growing up, they always tell you that love is wonderful. But they never tell you how bad it hurts when the feeling isn't mutual.
You don't just bring someone into this terrible world and leave them. Please tell me that's not the way the world works. How do you just leave? You can't just leave. You can't just leave them with the responsibility of someone else's happiness either. But no one else cares enough. It has to be my responsibility. I'm trying so hard but he's starting to get used to her not being around and it's breaking my heart all over again to see him go through that. You don't just leave someone with that. And you don't commit to them when you know you're going to leave. You can't make your presence comforting to them when you're going to leave. You can't show them the most beautiful music or a completely different view or talk to them about art or teach them anything or introduce them to amazing people or tell them stories about your past because then whenever it's 5 in the morning and they can't sleep because of you they're going to listen to those songs and want to talk with someone about art the same way and talk to the people that you introduced them to just to find out that they're shitty too and think about your past and then they're going to remember everything and nothing at the same time and the sad thing is that you never know which is worse, it's like a flood or a drought. It's either so much it kills you or nothing at all. And they're never going to feel the same when they listen to the songs or see a piece of artwork or see those people you introduced them to at the grocery store and they're going to pretend like it's just another song or painting and pretend like they didn't see those people at the store. But a little piece of you dies inside every time they have to skip over the song on a playlist like its nothing or drive by the art store without going in to buy paint or finally delete those people's numbers out of your phone and it's hell every single time. So now you got rid of your radio because those songs always play and you drive a different way to wherever you're going so you don't pass the art store and you don't go grocery shopping very much anymore because those people always seem to show up there when you do and that's when you're really dead inside because that person is no longer a part of you and you just feel so dead without them. And the worst part is when you can finally change the radio station when the songs come on or drive past the art store or go to the grocery store and run into those people and say hi and when you're finally getting better you're just getting worse than last time.
