I woke up this morning not excited to start my day in the slightest. Quickly I threw myself in the shower and used up all of the hot water before I actually started cleaning myself. There was no point to actually doing my hair (there usually never is) or looking nice, so kind of just grabbed a shirt and jeans at the last minute. As I was cooking my breakfast of eggs, I thought about how I hadn't talked to you in over 24 hours. It felt so very strange.
It wasn't that I was used to texting you all of the time, but I mean, I was used to staying up late with you and whispering sweet nothings. And to think that we hadn't done that for the past two nights unsettled me. My life has been so stressful lately, and talking to you was the only thing that relaxed me. The only thing that sent butterflies to my stomach, the only thing that made my heart sing like the little caged bird she is.
My day went on at a grueling pace, but I forced myself to go on and let myself smile even though I couldn't stop thinking of you. I couldn't stop wishing, hoping, that just maybe you would decide to text me and say I'm sorry, I love you. My phone's been dead. But of course you didn't. Anything I want or expect never happens. You must have been lying to me. It wouldn't be the first time.
I wanted so badly to believe you. I wanted to let myself fall in love with you all over again, to be the girl that your parents hated but you loved. I wanted to be your first hello, your last goodbye, and your only true love. I don't think I was though. Look at this paragraph. Every sentence starts with "I". I am so terribly selfish, aren't I?
The only thing that made my day worth even waking up to was my private lesson. Other than you, marimba is the only thing that I can lose all of my thoughts in. I pick up the mallets and play, I don't even think. It's so distracting. Drawing me away from my anger, my sadness, and highlighting the only emotion that I can control -- my happiness. The warm feelings flood me, and I disregard my mistakes, focusing only on improving throughout the song.
And then I think of you.
I drop the mallets
they land on the keyboard
with a click and clatter.
The dissonance
rings
in my ear.
I turn my head, and my hair falls over my face. My brown eyes are cloudy with tears, and the harsh practice room lighting is unflattering to my face. I feel my heart sink and my eyes sting. My throat closes up and I hiccup, feeling the sobs threatening to rack my body. And I think, I hate this. I hate crying in practice rooms. I hate crying at school. I hate myself for this. And I really do. I shouldn't be crying over a boy who just needs to grow up.
I shouldn't be crying, but I shouldn't not care. I don't think I'm so heartless as to laugh in your face when you act up. Whatever, if you're doing it for no reason, then I can just be mad at you later. But if you're doing it for a reason? I want to know why, I want to fix whatever is wrong. I want to make you laugh, and smile, and feel the happy that I always long for.
Maybe I can't. Maybe you're not fixable. Maybe you're stuck the way you are, and maybe some people hate you for that. They may hate you for how you act or how you treat people, or for that horrible temper of yours. But I don't. I could never hate you. I'm not going to say I never wished that I could, because there are times that I've been so livid with you that I could not even put into words how I wished fate to fall upon you.
But I love you, Anthony. I love your face and your eyes and every freckle on your face. I love your sweet-talking, your constant quotation of song and your questionably strange and perverted sense of humor. I love all of your little quirks and your passion when it comes to the things you love and care about. There's nothing to "fix". You're not "broken". You're a person who I love and cherish and couldn't stand to lose forever.
I want to be there for you through every step of your life. I want to be the girl you can look to and smile at, knowing she'll be there for you in your darkest days. I will be that girl. Everyone who hates you and doesn't want me to care for you can shove it. I love you and I need you in my life. Perhaps this isn't anything at all, really. Chances are that you'll come running back and we'll be happy again.
Quickly now. You're terribly late.
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