Falling for a Stranger (DannyPhantom.exe Fanfiction: Book 1)

Chapter Two

I was in the same college as Danny.

That one sentence kept running through my head like a needle scratching a record. It was all that I heard long after he had passed me without another glance and gone into his room. It was all I heard, when hours later, I had brought all my luggage to my room and was lying in my bed staring at the ceiling. 

'There's no way this is for real,' I thought to myself as the wind ruffled the tall tree beside my window, 'Can I be this lucky?'. I lay there smiling so broadly to myself that my cheeks started hurting as my mind started dreaming up all kinds of scenarios of me and him: having coffee in a café, walking hand in hand through the park, strolling down a white sand beach. Wait, did this area even have beaches? I didn't care, long as I was with him. Sigh. Of course, my rational mind chimed in before I could fantasize any further. 

'You are so pathetic,' it said, totally ruining my daydream of Danny and I cuddling in my room after hours just talking. 'You see this guy once and he didn't even really look at you and you're here wasting your time fantasizing and about a guy!! Don't you feel dirty?'

'Can't you just leave me alone, please,' I replied to my own inner demons, 'I don't need this right now. Just let me be.'

'Clearly you do,' came the snarky reply, 'can't you just like girls like a normal person? What is wrong with you?'

'Shut up. Shut up. Shut up,' I chanted over and over. It was the only way I got the voice to stop but deep down, I knew that voice was just me and how I felt about myself and I couldn't fix how I felt and that in itself was another burden. "Why can't I just be normal?" I whispered out loud, as I got up and began to unpack my luggage, my books and my Knick knacks. 

Ding!- went my phone notifications as I folded my last shirt. I pulled it out to check it and saw that it was a message from my mom back in Jamaica. My hand trembled slightly as I tapped it and read it. Seems she was just checking up on me. I replied with a quick message that I was doing great and put the phone on my little study desk. My mom and I had a rocky relationship; I never thought she'd speak to me again after she went through my journal and my cell phone and found out how I felt about men but she still does from time to time, even though it took her years to do so without the tone of disgust or without telling me to kill myself for being so "abnormal" every five words. Sometimes I wonder if all that verbal abuse was why I felt how I did. Yet I convinced myself she was doing this out of love and her words were one reason I tried to bury my feelings and hide that they weren't really gone. In fact, I think she only talks to me cause she thinks I'm straight now. If only she knew the struggle I endure daily in my mind and heart but no one will understand or help me. I can only help myself and bottling up my feelings is how I dealt with it even if depression and sadness were the fruits of my efforts - happiness isn't for everyone I guess. 

Satisfied with my quick unpacking and organizing skills and realizing it was only 7pm, I decided to do some catching up on the ins and outs of U.H.E before my first day began. My course schedule, list of courses and handbook were all already in my email and I saved them all and transferred it to my phone. I stuffed my backpack with everything I knew I'd need for tomorrow. It sucked that I arrived a week after term started due to a mix up with my flight but I knew I would  work extra hard to catch up on everything I missed up until this point. I logged into the online Virtual Learning Platform with my username and password that was on my course schedule and spent the night catching up on all my courses that I missed before I got to U.H.E. (YES, I am a massive nerd and bookworm but I love it.) 

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My 5 a.m. alarm went off with an ear-splitting siren sound and I jerked awake, toppling from my chair, smacking my elbow on the tiled floor and stifling a gasp of pain. Seemed as though last night, (and like any other night when I started studying), I fell asleep in the activity and at the desk too it seemed; but judging  from the chaos of papers on the desk, it had been a successful night. I stood up, feeling good about myself, caressing my elbow and strolled into my little broom closet of a bathroom. It was times like these in the privacy of a 'broom closet' that was all mine, I was glad I chose not to have a roommate. It may have been tiny but it was just mine.  Waking up to a dude bathing would not be good for my psyche.