Let Me Be Your Superhero

Chapter 7 (Luke's POV)

You could easily say that today was the best day of my life.

You could also say that Lexi can be considered a friend of mine.

I got into my car and buckled up, routinely pulling off my sweater and throwing it into the back seat. I took a second to breathe deeply so that I wouldn't screech like a little girl, which, honestly, I do way too often. I talked to Lexi twice today. This morning she was upset, but there was nothing I could do about that. Then in English...holy shit. I wish I could save my memories of English class on a USB so I could replay them forever. My letter fucking made her cry. But, good tears. And she really wants to know who wrote it. But the best part, by far, was when she was describing what she wanted the guy to be, and she described me. Then when I said it out loud she didn't deny it! What if...I actually have a chance? Like, I'm tall, I like good music, I have blue eyes, and I'm as sweet as the letter guy. Fuck, I am the letter guy. I wish I wasn't such a socially awkward and shy fuck and could just tell her it's me. But I am becoming more confident, especially now being friends with her. Like when I said that thing about her describing me I didn't even freak out. I feel like I'm invincible around her. 

Sigh.

Fuck it I have been too sad for too fucking long and I have a really good fucking feeling about this. If it's not meant to be then it won't happen. I can't fuck up fate. Yes, that's good logic. I'm going to set a deadline for myself. By the end of this month, I will tell Lexi it's me writing the letters. I'll tell her everything, and hopefully she won't be disgusted or creeped out. She deserves better than me, but maybe fate doesn't take beauty into account when choosing soul mates? Hopefully.

I put my keys in the ignition and turned on my car, then pulled out of the school parking lot and started heading home. While turning a corner I saw my scars in the sunlight, then I realized that I haven't had the urge to cut since meeting Lexi. And if this works out, I don't think I will ever again. If this actually works out, maybe I'm not actually worthless. Maybe I am capable of being wanted? Maybe...

I got home and spent the rest of the night playing guitar and writing a new song. I haven't written in months, but now I have so much to write about. This song is a confession song, it basically spills all my feelings; but it's my best one yet. Everything that has to do with Lexi is great. I just hope she gives me a chance. At midnight I put down my guitar and attempted to go to sleep, but it just wasn't happening. I picked up my guitar and started heading for the door, then grabbed my swim trunks on the way out. It was really warm outside for a September night, so I put my guitar on the pool lounger and changed into my swim trunks. Before I jumped in the water I played my song about Lexi again. The name of the song is Dear You, which is very fitting because of the fact that I send her letters all the time. The lyrics are my favourite that I have ever written, and I think she's going to absolutely love it. Even if she doesn't know it's about her I hope she still likes it. I then put down my guitar and dove into the warm water of the pool. I had no idea what time it was, but I really couldn't give less of a fuck. I resurfaced and swam over to my floatie, hopping on top of it then lying on it to look at the stars. I was way to tall for it, but somehow despite only 15% of my body actually being on the floatie, it kept me afloat. 

I don't know how many times last year I came out here in the middle of the night and tried to end it. After my dad left I probably tried to drown myself twice a week. Even as it got colder, because that made the possibility of it actually working even higher. When my mom closed the pool for the winter was when I started the cutting. I no longer had that escape and the winter was driving me mental. I no longer had the stars to look up to at night, or the warmth of the sun, or the comforting embrace of my dad's arms. I've attempted suicide 72 times. The first 54 were in the pool, then the other 18 were either cutting or attempted overdose. I don't do drugs, so I used one of each pill in the medicine cabinet, as to not look suspicious. But every time I woke up the next morning. I hated myself for not being good enough for him, for anyone. I was a disappointment. I felt completely hopeless. Until December 4th. That's when I saw her for the first time.