Eleven

1. Secrets

Chapter 1 – Secrets

            I took my glasses from its case I placed it over my nose, taking my pen and journal from my bag, I then thought of what I had to write for today. Opening my journal to the eight hundred eighty-fifth page, I stared on the blank page, dark grey lines staring right back at me. I look up to see the sun slowly rising up in all its glory but I just couldn't bring myself to write anything on the empty page. So let me explain why I seem so eager to write on my journal, it all started two years ago when I realized that things aren't always what they seem. Ever since that faithful day, I decided to write down my feelings, writing became my getaway from the cruelties of the world. Although, no one has to know that, not even my family and certainly not my friends.

            The cool wind blew softly as I wrote in my journal. It was six in the morning and I was under a tree just outside school grounds, sitting on the bare grass I wrote:

December 2, 2013

6:12am

Dear You,

Do you know what it takes to be happy?

Aria

            It took me a while to accept that I had nothing else to write other than a question. Maybe it's just me, but, out of all the things I could write about, I chose a question about happiness. I mean, what are the chances of me, in my current state to be unhappy?

Your parents constantly argue and fight, you make yourself believe that nothing's wrong with you and your friends, but in reality, you just don't get them, a tiny voice in my head replied and frankly the voice was right but I can't put myself to agree with the second phrase.

            I probably just can't see what is there to be happy about nowadays. Everything seems to revolve around “Whatever's trending,” as Polly, my best friend would say. Maybe it's just a phase that everyone goes through at one point in their life, to be confused about their feelings. Realizing that I may end up beating myself up over life's problems, I took my journal and started to open my bag, when someone sat beside me. As if by instinct, I looked at the direction of the stranger and examined him closely, it was Lucas, he had been my classmate for years but I've never spoken to him, considering the fact that he never really spoke to me before or anyone else outside his small group of friends for that matter. He had brown faux hawk waxed hair, amber eyes and a fair complexion. He gave me a look and spoke, cutting the tension building up into the thin air.

“Isn't sleep the most important part of life?” He asked.

I looked at him quizzically, studying him for a while. I noticed a rather faded scar running under his left eye down to his left cheek.

“I guess.” I replied.

“Then you shouldn't be here this early. You do know classes start at seven-thirty in the morning.” He said.

“Well, you're up here early?” I asked, trying to avoid any further questioning.

“I'm an insomniac,” he replied, a hint of a smile ghosting his lips, “sleep hates me.”

“Oh.”

            A somewhat comfortable silence fell upon us and I took it as my cue to go. I packed up my things, stuffing them carelessly into my bag. Lucas looked at my journal, lifting an eyebrow inquisitively.

“So you're a writer?” He asked.

“You could say that.” I answered with my head down.

“Can I read it?”