Melted heart

Chapter 1: Cold hearted

"My favorite furniture is probably the windowsill that's in my room. I sit there, at night, just watching the sky. Sometimes I'm writing, sometimes I'm listening, sometimes I'm watching. I'm looking at the stars, because I hope that between all those soft stars, the most softest are the ones that are watching me. That they're not stars. That they're my granddad, my best friend and my cat who're watching me. Okay, maybe not my cat, I don't think he'd be interested. So, at night, when the whole street is sitting inside, with the curtains closed and the TV on, I'm watching the tree that's waving, the stones that are rolling, the bicycler who's hurrying to get home as soon as possible, the car with a family who have just been to a party from a family member, maybe. I watch all the moving and stationary things. I write down all the words I cannot express out loud. Songs, poems and stories, I write them all. I listen to the wind making the trees wave, I listen to the sound of rolling stones, I listen to the bicycler talking on the phone to his wife, saying he'll "be home in a minute". And sometimes, as I'm watching, I catch a falling star. I wish and I dream about my dreams. I think about my thoughts. I jam to the song that's maybe playing. I play with my fingers, like they're drums or a guitar. I do all that. It's my medical cure for a bad day. Watching the sky, watching the world. I'm a little girl with big dreams, a little, immature but grown up girl who wants to achieve a lot, a girl who's been through a lot but is still standing. A girl who's a badass and a sweetheart at the same time. A girl who nobody really knows. They don't want to get to know that girl that's always laughing, because they think they know that she's okay. She's smiling right? Or maybe they just don't want to know her problems. The problems and struggles of that always smiling girl. The thoughts who destroy her daily. They don't want to admit she's cold hearted."

I put down my notebook and look at the page I've just written down. I asked myself the question what my favorite furniture is. I always think of question I can ask myself, because maybe someone will find my notebook, when I'm dead and buried, and they'll tell the people who'd known me that I was writing something. They won't know if this is a story or a writing about my life. They won't know if that always smiling woman was making it all up or if she'd written all her thoughts down in this book they'd just found. I lay my notebook on the table and look at the students around me. They're all working or listening to music. Our English teacher wasn't here today, so another teacher is leading our class, but allowed us to do our own thing. I watch at Sidney, my friend who's sitting next to me. She's smiling at her phone, probably texting her boyfriend. I stretch my legs as I try not to hit the chair before me. I manage to not disturb anyone and I look at the clock. It's 11.45 AM, five more minutes until the class is over and we have a break. I pick up my pen and click with it for a few minutes until the teacher stands up and demands that we have to store our books into our bags and then we're free to leave, unless we talk, because oh no, "you'll get punished". Ugh, what a lie. No one has ever been really punished for talking, but still all the teachers say it. I look at my friend Sidney and walk out of class. "Yo Sarah, what were you writing?", Taylor asks. Taylor's the annoying friend everyone has, but doesn't really considers her a friend. She's nice tho. She can draw very well, I noticed once when she was drawing in her notebook. I consider what I should tell. "I was writing something for Science, I have to hand in a paper tomorrow, so yeah", I finally decide. I could tell it was my diary, or however you'd like to call it, but she wouldn't understand it. Maybe she would, but she would probably make up some stupid rumors that I'm depressed or something else. Not that I am. That's why they're rumors. "Good decision not to tell her, she'll make such a big thing out of it", I hear someone whisper. I look around and smile. "Hey Sid, is Jonah alright?", I ask while I give Sidney a hug. Sidney and I always greet with a hug if we haven't seen each other in more than 10 seconds because... I don't know why to be honest, but I'm okay with it. Sidney understands me more than all the other's. She knows I have the notebook. That's something, at least right?I have known Sidney for at least 9 years now. She's my neighbor and of course, when you're neighbors and the same age, you become friends. So Sidney knows me probably much better than Taylor or any other student here. Sidney sighs. "He went to a party with a girl yesterday. I wanted to tell you, but I had to help my mom the entire evening and when I wanted to sign you through the window, you were already asleep. So he went with her and I saw all these pictures of him having fun, while he didn't even invite me. So now I'm pissed and he doesn't respond to any of my texts and he wasn't in this class. He's probably a hungover. Ugh, sometimes, Sarah, you will notice later, boys suck. You hear it everywhere and always laugh and agree but never think it's true. But it is. Boys suck!", Sidney yells. A few people look around and watch us. The two girls, mostly together. The hot one and the sweet, cute girl next to her. Sidney, and me. Sidney is dating Jonah for a while now, it's her longest time she's ever held up a boyfriend, and she's in love. Love and fights go well together, right? And then there's me. Everyone's friend, everyone's shoulder to cry on, the positive girl who brings an innocent smile to everyone. That's me. That's Sarah Montgomery.