Chapter 15 - Do You Mind?

I skipped lunch. It had become recurrent for me since I got in highschool. Teachers weren't really after you, seeing what you did or didn't do, if you ate or not. It was just easier, in a way. And I enjoyed having the time and space to be with anyone but myself. In other words, I liked being alone.

The reason why I sometimes didn't have lunch with my friends was that when my mood wasn't the best, which was the occasion at the moment, I couldn't really mask it. I'm an open book, as my mom would say. Transparent. When I felt down, people who were close to me noticed and there was nothing I could do to prevent it from happening. Hiding away was the best solution. I needed time to compose myself, and being around me in that state wouldn't bring any good to anyone.

Now, why don't I just talk to someone about it? Just let out how I feel, how tired I am. Tired of always striving to be the best, to give others only the best I can and yet always feel like it's never really enough. Like I'm not enough.

I could never do it. No one would understand me. They would take me as depressed, damaged, flawed. Weak. They wouldn't see my weakness, they never will. I couldn't afford letting that happen. Ever again.

Hungry and tired of doing nothing as I sat in the deserted classroom, I decided to open my bag in search of something to eat. Maybe I had an apple or nut bar in there, somewhere. I wouldn't bother too much if I didn't, actually. If I didn't eat, it would be one less thing to get me stressed about. Less food meant less pounds. Less fructose meant less cellulite. Less eating meant less good things to get me distracted from my pain.

God, you're so dramatic. There are people out there in the world actually suffering. And here you are, being a whiny teenage girl who can't be reprimanded by her mother without crying herself to sleep. You're pathetic.

I know. I know there are people suffering way more than I am, but it just hurt. It hurts when she addresses me like that. When she calls me names, when she tells me things no parent should tell their children. It hurts to not be acknowledged for the good things I do for her, to help her. I do so much, I work so hard and she always clings to that one thing I didn't do well. Out of a hundred things she asks me to do, if I don't remember to do one, she'll be sure to let me know about it. As much as I try to be perfect, I can't always be, and she just points that out. She's always the first one to tell me when something I made didn't turn out to be good.

She is your mom. You have to be patient with her. Remember the good things she does for you, how she cares for you. Besides, you know she doesn't mean the things she says whenever she's mad, she even apologized. She always does.

Yeah, and what's the point of apologizing for something if you're just going to do it over and over again?

Well, there's nothing you can do about this. Accept her apologies and move on. Better yet, don't think about it.

I already did. I always do. A stupid good girl, isn't that what I am?

Sure is. Good thing you know.

If there was a fee to pay every time a person rolled their eyes, I would have been broke by now. Oh, wait. I already was. Well technically, I wasn't broke, just didn't have any money. There's a difference.

Suddenly, the door of the classroom burst open, distracting me from my depressive thoughts. Looking up from the fixed gaze I held on my desk, I saw a couple that looked like they were about do... couple-y things. Great. I can't even mourn over my life in peace now?

I looked at the couple, who had just broken apart and stopped playing Dora the Explorer with each others faces. The girl looked at me, I looked at the girl. My gaze moved to the guy out of embarrassment. I looked at him, he looked at me. Talk about awkward.

Okay, option A: leave quick without a word, never glance back. Option B: ask them where the bathroom is and leave quick, never glance back. Option C: come up with some excuse to not make this more awkward. Something like "oh, I think I'm gonna have a bad diarrhea, where is the nearest bathroom, please?" Leave quick, never glance back.

How will mentioning diarrhea not make this more awkward? I thought, having an inner discussion with myself as the two stood by the door looking at me impatiently.

"Excuse me," the guy said after clearing his throat. He was kind of short and his hands were still hanging just above the brunette's bum. She was pretty, but also fairly short. I had an obsession with heights. "Do you mind?" He continued, gesturing towards the door with his eyes, refusing to let go of her. The lad looked quite edgy.

Sorry, do I what now? Yes I do mind. I mind leaving my very uncomfortable yet very familiar hard-wood seat, I mind having to gather and take all my belongings with me, and I mind having to stop being alone sulking about my life, just because you two horny babies who think are entering pre-adulthood want to have a good time.

"Oh, sorry. I'll leave." I said lowly after a while, internally smacking myself for being an idiot.

"Thanks". The both of them said in unison, before letting out an almost synchronized "aaww", probably out of thinking they're soulmates. I rolled my eyes as soon as I had my back facing them, when I went to pick up my things. Well, at least they said thanks.

After hurrying through the door like a stupid scared puppy, I decided to lock myself in the most secure place there could be found in highschool: the bathroom. I probably spent about 15 minutes in there, just thinking about me and my life. Yes, how self-centered one can be? But my thoughts regarding my person weren't exactly narcissistic, to say the least. Before the bell rang, I came out of my safe cubicle and washed my tear stained face. Looking through the old, spot-marred mirror, I told myself to calm down. No one must know how weak you are. Get it together. Taking a deep breath, I walked out of the place, ready to show a smile to the first person that came my way. And that I did when Owen Briggs, from Art class, said hi to me on the hallway. Part of me felt better after that. Maybe I needed to be greeted by a stranger to make my mood better. Huh. How normal of me.

Through the rest of the day, I was sure nothing very exciting would happen, and I was right. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, until the end of history period. Mr. Herman had just dismissed us and I was gathering the things on my desk when someone cleared their throat in front of me.

"Hey."

You?