Winged Without A Choice

Hello, my name is...

Zuri. To add a little to your imagination, I'm fifteen years old, an average teen in an even more average world and the only things that were keeping me alive were my two very best friends (who wish to remain nameless and will therefore not be mentioned any further), my counselor who had so far managed to convince me that there was more to life than wet pillows and the deep desire to linger a little longer in the darkness only so far.

And my Kawasaki that I had waited two years to ride but due to circumstances, I couldn't.

I suffered from a mild case of selective amnesia since I was born and I absolutely hate it because all I ever did was forget. It got to a point where I'd lose something every week , frustrating my parents until they would explode with seething rage and shout at me and wonder if I was born with a brain then later, after all the tears and hurt either I or my mom or dad would find whatever it was I lost lying in the most absurd place because I forgot where and when I put it down. I didn't blame my parents about it though (unlike most teens I know who lash at them for everything wrong going on in their life...), but what I did wrong was bottle up all that and carry it around with me because I knew that I could never be fixed.

I'm stuck having to constantly lose things that are valuable to me and disappointing everyone with my 'carelessness'.

But I accepted it and learned not to cry before anyone because I'd have let my guard down and they would all know I'm a big-ass softie. I even tried to 'select' the things I wished I could forget, like the fact that I'd be waking up tomorrow to face humanity with all its problems, or the time my ex-boyfriend (cringe) was standing a head taller than me, blocking ninety percent of my vision with his chest  and clouding my thoughts with his caramel-ly scent and acting like a human cage, all while half the school's eyes were on us and me suffering from a major case of heart sledgehammer and universe-sized embarrassment

 (present tense)

"What in the world are you doing Jason?" I ask, feeling like I'm in the moment of pure desperation for help.

"Why, I'm displaying my affection..."

Please...NO!!

"...publicly". He retorts with a playful grin that brings out his dimples.

Statistics show that such douchebags don't make it further than their mother's garage. But you can't help loving a guy who's jokes are as pathetic as his understanding of boundaries and still manages to make you feel like puking sunshine and rainbows and pink cotton candy (I seriously need to grow up) and is really good company, but that's just about all he'll ever be. He's cute, in a childish way, and I keep asking myself what I ever saw in him before.

I scowl at him.

"You know you're not supposed to do that," I say as I walk under his arms and around him.

"What, am I not allowed to let the whole world know I have a girl who loves me as much as I love her" He turns and I can tell from the twinkle in his eye that he does mean it.

The bigger question here should be, what in the world am I doing?

I stare at him as I try to do some soul-searching for even a little bit of affection towards him but my efforts are fruitless. And it doesn't help that Allan keeps walking past me and just a waft of his minty flavor, I mean scent is enough to impale me, and been doing it a lot more lately. 

Like he just did right now. 

Is it deliberate?

"Hey, you ok?" Jason's full-of-concern face interrupts my internal debate of whether I should go sniff Allan's locker later or not.