Secrets

6. Chemistry Class

       I, sadly, had to return to school the next day. That night was beautiful though. We all piled into Penelope's beat up car and headed to our favorite hang out spot (dropping off Zaida on the way there). We brought sparklers and weed. We stayed out to the wee hours of the night, and watched the sunrise from my roof. Caleb snuck back into his house, and Penelope just walked through the front door of her place. My mom was upset, but she knew what she signed up for when she let Penelope march through my door.

       So, needless to say, we got no sleep and all looked like sexy zombies when we walked through the school doors that morning. I didn't think about you until that moment, and wondered if today would be the day you finally decided to talk to me. I just wanted you to look at me like I was art. Something so alluring and attractive you'd pay millions for it, and millions more just to protect and keep it. I wanted you to whisper how beautiful I was while you trailed my jawline with your fingers.

       I wanted to be something so beautiful, not something so tragic. You see my baggage before you see me. You watch as I struggle with my footing on the mountain of doubt I currently reside in. You keep a safe distance and only talk to me when there's a screen between us and you're unable to see my face. You've created a safe zone of a friendship, and when I try to expand you shut me down or shut me out to teach me a lesson. I live in constant agony with my inability to cope but I fight through.

       Though I'm unable to come to terms with this thing you call friendships, I've developed ways to avoid the cold hard truth you've created. Through reread messages and long nights of restlessness, I dream of an alternate universe where you actually hug me, and have come to terms with the fact I'm a human and not some last minute "entertain me" text. Though I'm perfectly not okay but okay with our friendship, nothing stops me of dreaming about a tomorrow where you're my real life friend just as much as my internet friend.

       "Jupiter," Zaida nudged me, now flanking my side as I walked down the hallway. Sending her a lazy smile, I let her know I'm listening. "How was last night? Sorry I had to go, I really didn't want to lose my car again." That brought me back to the night, and a cloud of sad enveloped my mind. Ever since that night, Zaida and I drifted. It's your fault, and sometimes I wonder if she knows about the complex feeling I have for you.

       I feel guilty about my feelings about you when I look at her, I can see how much pain she's still in. The two of you were a very serious thing until you decided to end it. Your excuse? She didn't entertain you anymore. Zaida bacame just another broken toy, shoved into the back of your closet and sobbing to be set free. She was willing to let you ruin her more, I know because I spent weeks on her bed trying to simply help her. Penelope got impatient, tired of my method, and smacked her brain straight. That's when she distanced herself, saying she needed to find the "her" before there was you.

       I never understood what she meant until now. I never understood why she was so strung up until now. I never understood her undying painful love until now.

       Sometimes I wonder if she felt as strongly as I did, and do. If she felt on the very many levels I felt, or if you swept her away as quickly as you did me. I wonder if she searched for you in the halls before you met, or worried when you passed in the halls and seemed a little down. I wonder if the slightest touch caused goosebumps to envelope her body, or if your blue eyes made her melt, or if your voice caused her to be as dizzy as me. Butterflies overflow her stomach, or flowers clogged her lungs. Did these things happen to her, or do I just feel for you too deeply? But mostly, I wonder if desire nipped at her toes and lust ate at her brain.

       I feel things on a deeper scale, and mom says it's a gift (it's not, it's literal hell). I believe I got a case of bad karma or some crap. My emotions make me unstable, unpredictable, and a hazard to myself.