The Dog Days of Summer

3

I talk about boys and depression way too much in this story but what else am I supposed to talk about? People only like to hear about the bad shit that's goes on in your life. It's more entertaining. 

I hear the audience cheering. So you agree?

Anyways, want to hate me even more?

After I refused to communicate with Chulo any longer, I began talking to yet another boy. But like the homie hopper I am, I cut him off to dedicate my time to a fatuous hope that I would be the unsuspected girlfriend of a popular football player. 

The girl best friends hated me, the teammates hated me, favorite teachers and all hated me. All because I refused to be with their pathetic little boy friend. I had something better in store for me, if I wanted to devote my time to an illusion then so be it.

My sweet football player, my trusted math partner. He just knew how to cheer me up, he made me feel safe. And that was big for me. It was a serious thing because I was plagued with a lot of childhood trauma from boys.

For the first time in a long time, a boy made me feel secure. 

#8, it used to be my jersey number until I switched to #14. He who wears the #8 shall be called Lara, his last name.

I never told Lara how he made me feel, mostly because he was a popular senior and I was a dopey, flat chested sophomore.

I loved talking to Lara, I always wanted to see him. I loved when he would talk to me, text me, snap me. I loved when he would simply walk past me, glance in my direction.

My first very obsession. Everything about him made me go crazy. 

I'm probably making this more dramatic than it seems and his feelings were most likely not equivalent to mine. Infatuation is my middle name.

He most likely just wanted a quick fuck, you know what they say about seniors. I wouldn't have allowed it if ever came to that. It probably would've broken my heart if it did.

I wish I had the privilege to say that I loved him and he loved me back, but it never got to that point. We were each other's little secret and in all honesty, I was fine with that. I didn't want anyone to know about "us". 

He probably would have been ashamed of me anyways. 

But I think I fantasized the idea more than the reality of it. Whatever, I think I'll briefly mention him.

I doubt this would reach him. This is not "To All the Boys I've Loved Before." Fuck that, please don't make that comparison. 

He would play with my fingers, turn to look at me and smile all the time. I started learning to do makeup. 

I still remember the text messages of him telling me to come over, telling me to meet him somewhere around the school, asking for a kiss under the desk. 

I wish I did. I wish I wasn't such a coward. 

Thank you. Next!

Lesson 11: That senior is going to forget about you.