I Think We're Meant to Be

Eighteenth birthday. Usually people are excited for this kind of thing, right? I'm actually pretty nervous. You see, once a person turns eighteen, once they become an "adult" I guess, as arguable as the term is, the name of the person they're destined to spend the rest of their lives with appears over their collarbone, just over their heart. Sounds cheesy to me, but that's how it is. I'm told it feels like something hot is being stamped into your skin. It actually sounds a little unpleasant, but hey. What do I know? A lot of my friends were so excited to learn who their soul mate is, but I've always been a bit of a loner in that department. Or in general, really. Meaning that I've never so much as gotten a glance in my direction. I haven't minded much until I realized that my birthday was a few weeks away. I had gone through my entire life telling myself that I was better than that, and I wouldn't stress too much about it once I came of age. 

So much for that resolution. All I've been doing is stressing over it. 

I sigh as I shove my text books into my bag with more force that what is really deemed necessary. I turn eighteen today, sometime around one or two in the afternoon my mother had told me was when I had been born. I'd never cared enough to find out the exact time. And besides, time is more of a human construct anyways. Not that this little fact lessened any of my anxiety. I sigh and I shoulder my bag. Checking in the mirror by our front door before I headed outside. Two green eyes gazed back at me. I sighed. I'd tried to fix my hair this morning but I'd given up and just let it do as it pleased, my bangs swooping over my face in what I thought was a semi-attractive way. Not that anyone else seemed to think so. But it doesn't really matter what other people think of me. The rest of it cascaded down over my shoulders in a soft way. I shrug and look away from the mirror because I don't like to look at myself for too long, or I begin to pick myself apart. 

For someone who acts like she doesn't care, I sure pay a lot of attention to myself. The thought makes me smile in a humorless way. 

Mum calls for me to get outside to the car, so I quickly slip my shoes on and then hurry out the door. Not realizing that I've forgotten my very important homework assignment sitting on the table by the door.  

The ride to the school isn't actually all that long, but mum had offered this morning. The news on the radio in the car suggested that it's going to rain later today. 

"You okay, sweetie?" Mum asks me as she noticed my nervous fidgeting. 

I jump a little as she asks, a little ashamed that I'd forgotten she's in the car with me. 

"Yeah, don't worry about it Mum." I lie. 

"Are you worried about this afternoon?" 

"Maybe a little." I admit, running a hand through my hair as she pulls up next to the high school. 

I'm in my final year of high school. I'm glad that it's almost over, because I can't honestly say that I love it here. All the drama, and the yelling, and the boys chasing girls and girls chasing boys. It's nauseating. 

"Don't worry too much about it, alright? You might not actually meet them for a while yet. You only find out his name today." She points out. Trying to be reassuring. 

It doesn't help, but I smile anyways, acting like I felt better. I don't want to worry her too much. 

"Thanks, mum. I've got to go, love you." I tell her, hurrying out of the car before I do something else that makes her ask questions. 

--

I sigh as I sink into my seat during my third period class. English. It's my favourite class, but I still don't feel all that thrilled to be here. The day has barely even started, but I still feel like it should be over. I resist the urge to groan as the teacher sets the work sheet down in front of me. He didn't really greet the class. This one never does. He just briefly explains what we're doing and then lets us do whatever. It's usually a creative writing assignment. Today we have to write about some kind of apocalyptic event. It says so on the board, and I'm about to dive into the assignment. But suddenly the teacher clears his throat.