Struck By You

Pain.

Hair thrust across my oily face. My thighs, sweating from the stress. My shoes almost tripped me as I ran out of the lunchroom before anybody else. As soon as the death bell rang, I could feel the anxiety release, but only for a quick moment. I still had to get through this day.

People's whisper grew louder as I passed them in the hallway. Sentences filled with words involving "love", "crush", and "embarrassing" swirled around my head and the entire school that whole day.

I was looking at the different people that were speaking: nerds, emo's, popular girls and boys, and the baseball guys, all talking about Josephine Lambe and my embarrassing confession. I was living in a typical nerdy film plot. So fucking basic. Even fucking Kim Clark, who dressed as characters every day, was discussing ME with her dumb friends. I hate Josh so fucking much.

My brows furrowed at the thought of his stupid fucking "WOKE!" t-shirt. Embarrassing, ashamed, hopeless, anxious, and stressed were only some ways I was feeling. How does a tiny whisper of a secret become louder than the words of hundreds in a room in a millisecond? How does one hurt enough to mortify one they love?

My feet become heavy and slow as I reach the end of the hallway. I turn side to side, looking at more faces gawk, reliving the scene at every new set of eyes. I have no dreams anymore. I dream of flying off of the top of the school at this moment, nothing else. If I were to pass away, I wouldn't even care. Fitting in can be tough and now I never will break away from the stereotype: the girl with a crush.

I gotta focus. My brain snaps into the present to see nothing in front of me. Ralph Lauren's glasses fell on the bridge of my nose and blurred my vision. My book's rattled in my hands, trying to pick them back up. Did I daydream from that long? I must have because I reached my next class: Chemistry. You got this, bitch. Fuck Josh. Fuck John. Fuck the whole school, for real.

It set me off, and before I could think, I ripped the handle and opened the door and this is what I heard,

"Woah, here's she is"

"That's the girl that likes John!"

"John and Jo!"

Yeah, whatever, I was already fucking over it. Sitting in a familiar chair, the back is where I ran yet again. I didn't have many familiar faces in this class. Nothing seemed familiar to me. I felt like I became to unlearn everyone and didn't really care for Mrs. Gerlock's tone, my teacher, as she began to call attendance.

"We will sit alphabetically this year, you know how this goes by now. Ok, here we go. Janessa Anderson...Jake Kaminski...Josephine Lambe...John Lewis..."

WHAT. This could not get any more dramatic, are you kidding?

I began to curse at myself for not realizing our last names were so close together. I should have picked a different boy to stare at. Fuck.

My bag dropped below my shoulder as I set it quietly on the ground the middle seat, directly in the center of the room where I was instructed to sit. My books flopped loudly onto the tan desk, my thighs skidded to the right into the chair where my body relaxed first in my feet, then my upper body. My stomach never relaxed. I face the whiteboard, looking rapidly at the daunting tasks and due dates it was covered in. To the left, a baseball player named Kevin, laughing facing down at his desk, his cheeks puffing unable to control his laughter. Casey to the right of me, a popular tennis player mimicked Kevin while fumbling her notebook open to trying to concentrate on the lecture.

Rigid and stiff, I felt the deep, burning hole inside my stomach rumbling and screaming, telling me to leave the room. I was frozen as I tried to rip open my purple planner with my clammy hands, losing the grip of the college-ruled paper. It was at this moment where I knew the rest of my time at Riverside Hill would be hell.

I felt the strong attention of John Lewis' sexy eyeballs staring at the back the month old highlights on my head. Increasing my anxiety as I recognized my flaws that he was most likely staring at. I tried to think of his eyes. They were probably paired with a smirk, a smirk that only a person with an advantage would have. His body, probably relaxed, leaning into the wooden green chair and his brain completely focused on taunting me for the rest of the year.

My stomach never settled. I knew it wouldn't go away. Not for the rest of the class, but for the rest of my years around him, it would linger.

Even when I pick my sweaty thighs off this chair, grab my books and bag and walk away from his body, he will lay inside my mind

In the mall with my friends, it will be there. At home with my family, it will be there. Watching movies, it will be there. Studying, it will be there. Reading, it will be there. Writing, it will be there. Everything that I love to do, it will be there. John Lewis will be there. I'll look up to take a math test or drive for the first time or play a new sport, his face will be there. When I pray to God, it will stay in the back of my mind, I will have no peace of mind.

I stare relentlessly at the classroom items in front of me. I think about my friends, my family, and my future as they look at me with dissatisfaction. How do I change this?

Where do I go from here?