Undecided (Unedited)

When

I grabbed my bag and headed through the door . The girl in the mirror was irritating me,she being judgemental the one time I needed her to understand that I wasn't in control . I started walking to school. The streets calmer today and the shy clearing  of clouds, soon it would a bright day outside and I couldn't wait .
I couldn't wait to go back to my uncomfortably socially isolated and torture some highschool life. 
"Hey, ready for school?", Stefanie says to me as we walk together to school.

Let's see ? Am I ready for school .
Well ,I'm going through the motions with my reflection . My mother is hiding something ,something bad . I have nightmares at night and I didn't sleep last night . So now the real question becomes  ,Am I ever ready for school ?

" Yeah ,pretty much ." ,is my reply.

"Your poem was nice last night . I didn't get to see you though . You walked off stage and then disappeared and then we searched everywhere until I had to leave . Where were you ?",she interrogates . Her eyes scrutinize me and I feel a but nervous  all of a sudden .

I was close to being kissed by a girl and liking it ,did I mention she passed me her number . Oh and her name is Haley . Great girl ,cute eyes. The girl in the mirror keeps giving me looks when I feel different about her . Do you think I'm crazy ...

" I - I was ", I begin but my tongue is tied . I fight to tell her the truth but I fear judgement .

" I saw this program yesterday . This other girl liked another girl . What if I liked a girl . What would you say when you find out ?",I asked genuinely.

I looked into her eyes ,they changed colour like a television and so quickly I began to recognize them . They were similar to the ones the girl in the mirror gave me .

"Oh please you'd never ", she giggles but it doesn't even reach her cheeks not to talk of her eyes . She doesn't like the subject but I have to know.

" Yeah. But when you did ,if you did. What then? "

"Oh come on Rosalia it can't possibly happen . No one would allow it . "

I laugh to make it believable and say ,"Oh you never know ", its sounds playful enough but serious enough to me and suddenly its a question I ask myself.

" No ,you say things like "oh my gosh she looks nice "  and "I think I like her butt " all the time and you even nicknames me Stefan ,such a boyish name (which she hates ,by the way) but I know its just a joke . Besides I know you wouldn't ",she laughs this time and I ...I'm just not sure .

"Its a sin anyway . Your parents would kill you " , she jokes but it's true ...

I force a smile to my face ,"I just wanted to know after watching that program ".

I begin to wonder what beauty is because all of a sudden I see beauty through the lenses of artist and its purely beauty . For me ,beauty is an untold story. Because the tears that  fall from the eyes of those who bite their tongues not to speak is like a pencil,outlining the picture . Its faint ,only if you look closely will you see it . The sound of their muted voices is a paint brush waiting to touch a canvas . Their fears and inner wars ,these battles that they fight alone are all but rainbow of colours that make a colorlessly depressing picture turn into a vibrant world . Beauty to me is an untold story because the people that write them are depressed with no colour but they're the only thing that paint the bigger picture.  A beautiful contradict, a paradox only understood if you read between the lines of an uncoloured soul.

"I want to colour my hair red ,would it suit me ", she changes the subject .
I glance at her and then her hair .

" Yeah ,definitely "  ,I say . Colour it all you want ...

*
I drag my ass out of maths class and I walk to the cafeteria .
Its almost packed so I join the line and plan to take the food and go to a classroom somewhere to eat in peace and solitude .
The line moves faster than expected and all I'm finally served and I begin to walk off . I sit in the chemistry class ,although I'm not a alone the fewer people the better.
I take out my earphones and play my favourite music and then I eat while checking my messages .
My phone vibrates and its a notification for a new message .

Haven't used my number I see ,having second thoughts ?  ,it reads . I look at the numbers but I don't recognize them .
Another vibration goes off and its another message .

What's with the confusion ? I was so sure you were sure of yourself . You write poetry like a pro and even recite it like one too but you have quickly forgotten pieces of inspiration  , I figured it it was Haley . But that wasn't the confusion. The confusion was where did she get my numbers .
So I go through a series of contemplating . She could be a serial killer and I'm probably going through some weird teenage phase or something like that ...
But I'm taking the chance anyway .

"Poets don't forget their sonnets so how could I forget you ", I type out but I read it and press the backspace until there are no words . I can't say that ...

" I haven't had the chance to use your numbers but the real question is where you got mine ?", I type it with quick fingers and then I press send ,my heart beating out of my chest .

My phone buzzes .
"Does the library appeal to you ?" , I read it over ...what kind of question is that . That's like asking if food is appealing .

"Perhaps you could come check out my sonnet ", it reads further .

I contemplate but my mind's already made .
What if I liked girls . when you find out  what would you do ?"
I remember those words from the question ...
I did say when ,a sure approach ...not if ,if is never likely to happen .