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*This story mentions mental illnesses and sensitive subjects such as suicide and self-harm. If these topics are too sensitive, please do not read!*
Life for Arielle Rodgers has never been fair since the accident...
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I read the sudden text on my semi bright screen.My eyes squinting due to the fact that I needed new contacts and at this very moment my eyes decided to plot agaisnt me and be pure shit. I stopped in the middle of the vast hall way and lean against the pale cream wall, near the locker rooms; which currently are buzzing with countless jocks who reek of major B.O.
I didn't want to be here infront of the guys locker room right at this very moment, but I had no choice but to wait for Ray; who was in there because a stupid baseball team meeting. Ray? Sports? Ya im asking myself the same questions. He may be a little bit on the stupid side, and lazy as hell but I knew he was some type of an athletic guy. He's always loved the idea of the sport and because this was our last year in this hell hole, he decided to join the team.
It's strange..
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I sighed loudly as my long , pale fingers typed nonsense into my phone. I didn't want to go because I started drinking pain killers again or because I wanted to see the other kids who were also messed up in the head like me.
I wanted to see her.
There hasn't been a day of this week where I can't think of A.R- I mean Arielle. Somehow a smile creeped on my lips the minute I think of her name, her real name.It was beautiful; it suited her.
It's funny how I spent almost a month trying to figure out who she is, and what her deal was,and how I could possibily save a weary soul like hers.
Little did I know that you can fall for someone in precisely one month.I wouldn't say I'm in-love with her, but I do admit that I like her. Ok ya it's sort of crazy when you think about it, but I fell for her words, her thoughts, her mind. Infact I think you could say I fell for her soul, because I fell for who she really is inside..
Oh god listen to me I sound like a nut case.
The point is ,I don't even need to talk to the girl for god's sake. I just need to know she's real; that she's tangible in some type of way. I don't care if she isn't the best looking girl in the world (although I think she might be beautiful; her thoughts say so)All I care about is proving to myself that this isn't just another dream;that she's infact a part of my messed up reality.
