Of All The Things I Didn't Say

Chapter 6

Three days before the race... *makes vomit noises*. No pressure or anything. I tried convincing myself that I would do great, I will do great. I tried re-picturing the layout that Mason had in his head about me racing. But every time I tried to think of it, it takes a turn on me and I end up losing; last place.

"I truly enjoyed everyone's poems that you've written the other day", Mrs. Parker said. "You all wrote such powerful things. Depression, lose, failure, champions. All very powerful. But I am now interested in listening to a poem that is coming straight from your heart. Love. You kids have a different aspect to love than it does to adults or even yourselves. I want to hear it. So, work on it today and tonight and hand
them in tomorrow. I'll pick a reader to present their piece, if comfortable, the day after".

Great. So it looks like I will be ending up writing about my experience with Mason. Awesome.

I started reading some love poems online and searched for heart breaking love quotes that I could use for my poem... I kept reading those cute little love quotes that like, every girl would love. Or the screen shots people take of something cute their boyfriend or girlfriend sent them. You'll always wonder to yourself, will that ever happen to me? Will guy send me a text saying, "you just made my day by smiling. You light up my world baby".

It is the most cheesiest crap you will ever read, yet you can't help but look at your phone and await something cute to pop up on your screen. Just want to feel special for once, right?
Totally.

Once I got home, I raced up stairs to my room and pulled out my English homework. I wasn't sure why I was so eager to start my heart breaking, tragic, love story. *rolling my eyes*, tragic? Please, it was devastating.
But I don't know, something about writing what happened in a different text just felt, exciting. And it's not like I'll be writing about what happened, word for word and telling names and stuff like I did in my diary. No, I'll be writing about what happened after I figured out what he had done. My feelings toward him and now.

I popped in my favourite CD, and started to write.
I decided to name the poem: I'm happy for you.

I used quotes, some slang, metaphors and my own personal, poetic touch. I went to town writing this poem. It took up nearly a whole page.

I put my emotions into this. The pain, the burn, the truth. Everything. This was my very own personal experience. I wasn't writing about something that happened to someone else, I didn't make up a character, I didn't make up the love story. This was a part of my life that had happened. I hardly even heard the music playing, I hardly smelt the food that my mother had made. There was nothing but me, my pen and paper.

~

I read over my poem at least a hundred times before I went to bed last night, then again in the morning and at lunch. I was very impressed with what I had written, so part of me wants Mrs. Parker to choose my poem so that I could share it with the class but. Then everyone would know how I was feeling, what had happened even though no one would know who the man was. Even though he'd be sitting right in our very classroom. A shiver went up my spine. Oh my, what if she actually does pick mine?! Then I'd have to read it...out loud.
Lord have mercy.

"Alright class. Quickly, quickly hand in your poems so I may read them and pick a reader before class ends today", Mrs. Parker said while taking the sheets from the eager students. I hesitantly handed her mine, I wanted to share this poem but, with Mason just four feet away from me...