Fate

Chapter 18: Journals

"My heart breathes and my lungs beats. My whole body is mesmerized just by looking at you."

"You're not as stupid as you seem." She is as stupid as she seems.

"I know. You just don't really know me." She said cockily, and I wanted to tell her; No! I know you and you're pretty stupid. We've been solving the same equation for the past hour and you still didn't get it. But I wanted you to feel less bad about yourself, and to try and actually use the shoe that is your brain.

"Let's take a break." I greeted my teeth together. I have a short temper and she is so much to bear with.

To be honest, without failing my science exam in high school, and taking science lessons all summer and the year after, I wouldn't know how to help Shady with her test. And this is why I'm grateful. And this is why I know everything happens for a reason. Even though I felt like shit and studied all summer, that was my own gain. She was partying all summer, but here she is; sitting on my bed, whilst I help her with her exam. And that makes me believe, that sometimes, you gotta fail, to succeed.

She nodded quickly and went to the kitchen and as she said, she'll make a celebration 'snacks'

She is so overdramatic, and overreacts little things. And before judging her even further, a glimpse of silver flashed in the reflection of the mirror and I turned around to see what's that shiny silver book sticking out of a drawer next to Shady's bed.

It was a journal. I knew it is because there was a huge "JOURNAL." written on it. It doesn't take a smarty to know it is. It looked like it belongs to Shady. I know it was wrong to read someone's journal but as usual, I was so curious.

My hands unconsciously opened the small notebook and the first line caught my attention so badly.

It was, "It's something deep inside you which is considered the source of life in everyone." Curiosity was getting the best out of me and I found myself wanting to read more, so I did.

With a bold, neat, handwriting, was written, "It's something deep inside you which is considered the source of life in everyone. No matter how awful life seems to be. Our souls depend on it to survive. It cannot be felt by anyone but you. Not you mother, your best friend, your boyfriend, no one. The feeling you have that better things are coming, or just as we think so. The feeling of waiting for someone to come and tell you they love you even though they only saw you in the middle of a break-time among zillions of other girls. The feeling of being the most talented even though you can't do anything. These are some examples of how we convince ourselves that it's not the end of the world and life is better than we think. Or even that we have to kill our souls every single day to reach our target. These thoughts conquered my mind too high that it made me feel dizzy. It's so normal for a girl who lost everything trying to find herself. Easy to say—I was rejected by society."

I flipped the page, still in awe with her amazing writing skills. And the feelings that's filling her chest with agony.

"Rejected by my mother beliefs. That I haven't achieved anything in the past 18 and a half years of my existence. Maybe I'm popular, but not loved. Maybe I'm pretty, but not smart. I have no real friends, or even if I do, It's another life now. Even though the only boy I loved to the core, didn't love me back. He dated me but I knew he never loved me. He crashed my bones with a hammer and left me with no cast."

That's Daniel, I thought.

"I've always walked with my nose in the air to hide my insecurities. I convinced myself that boys love me, but they're waiting for the right chance to confess. How ironic is my life huh? If I didn't think like that, how I'd live? With this, hopeless, empty, life. I might be rich. But my parents owe me some parents love that I've never had. Everytime my mum reminds me that I was a mistake. That I wasn't meant to happen, stabs me in the heart real hard. And that she'd even prefers it if I was a boy, hits me even harder. Even though she's joking; I know that's behind every joke, is a serious message."

"What are you doing!!" Shadey shouted at me and snatched the journal from me.

"Shadey I-" I was speechless. I know what I did was wrong, but it was worth it.

"This is so awkward." She mumbled under breath. Pacing back and forth in the small room.

"No it's not." But she just shrugged.

"You write so beautifully." I looked at her in awe,

"That's all I can do, really." She chuckled darkly,

"That's more than enough."

"But, that was just pathetic. Everything. Everything I felt." She rubbed her arm in embarrassment.

"Of course not. Feelings and pain aren't pathetic, they can never be." I, myself, am very surprised by this conversation.

There was a pause as we both just stared at each other. "That's why you cleaned my cuts, right?" I was the first to start talking.

She shook her head, and what she did next made me gasp loudly. She rolled up the sleeve of her shirt and on her wrist was similar scars to the ones I have on my arm. I can't believe this, I thought.

It made me think that we're all just the same. We're all actors in a big theatre, we all want to be the hero. Not of the play, but the hero of our life. We save ourselves without even knowing it. We save ourselves everytime we don't kill ourselves. And everytime we get hurt and not break-down. Everytime parents never understands us. They make us feel like we're different. But we're so similar. We're all just the same. We all hide somewhere, neither it's the balcony or your room. We all use sleep to escape reality, and we use showers just to clear our minds. We all thank music for helping us survive, and for being there for us when our loved ones weren't. We all for some reason or another, hate our parents, or at least dislike them. We all hate how they sometimes treat us. And we sometimes wish we had some other one's life. We're all just the same. We all fly with broken wings.

They just don't understand that we're all playing a depressed teenager in a theatre of society. We all feel the same way about ourselves and we all want to end the pain in one way or another.

Then again, if we are all just the same, why are we so different from each other?

A lone tear slipped from my eyes and I looked at Shady as if she was a precious diamond ring. She was hurting, just like me. The difference was that we both dealt with pain in a different way. She made me feel the way she feels when I did the opposite. My feet forced me to go and hug her with so much force that'll break her bones.

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That was a very short filler.