I Forgive, I Don't Forget

Prologue: Re-written Check It Out

It happened in July. I was sitting at my desk--which always remained in a state of disarray despite the several times I'd pledged to get my life together--stressing out about the heavy workload I would face with the new school year. I'd always been a worrier, it was in my blood. No amount of meditative bullshit could stop the constant nagging in my head. I paid attention to details, too much attention. When it came to my school work I was meticulous. If something wasn't perfect, if it was just the slightest bit off, it didn't qualify at all. The same attention was paid to social situations. I was always concerned about seeming too stand-offish. But, I'd spent so much time analyzing every interaction I was too afraid to open up and socialize. Did I sound too formal? Am I standing too close to him?Should I have waved? Does she think I'm mean because I didn't? I forgot to say thank you...is it too late? What was automatic to most people was a complex series of decisions and consequences to me. I lived in turmoil; there was no escaping it. My desk was just a reflection of myself.

Well, actually, I'd sort of found a new peace that summer. After the semester from hell I'd endured the year before, I gave up on trying to maintain control, and it was nice, until I'd received my schedule in the mail that morning. I'd looked at the rigorous courses I'd chosen for myself and anxiety swelled in my chest. AP Lit, AP Bio, Calculus BC, Honors Physics, AP Euro... I couldn't handle all that work, not then. That schedule was chosen by a different me. It was chosen by someone obsessed with succeeding. Someone who wouldn't stop to smell the roses because doing so was time consuming.. But, I couldn't change it. People had expectations; teachers, administrators, parents, even the people in my class. To them, I was still that person and somewhere deep inside I thought so too. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been sitting there stressing. I couldn't disappoint them; I couldn't disappoint myself.

As if that pressure wasn't enough to make me detonate, the trouble from the semester before decided to re-enter my domain. It came in the form of a text. It didn't have a contact name. But, I recognized the number. I would always recognize that number. Hey, it said. It seems simple from an onlooker's perspective. But the single word spoke volumes. It unearthed emotions I'd finally managed to bury; I was sad, happy, hopeful, and angry all at once. I analyzed it's meaning, over and over again. Needless to say, the turmoil returned tenfold.

I had two choices; they were simple enough, to answer or not to answer. I chose the latter and I would deal with the repercussions later. Every decision has a consequence, Avery.