you don't date someone because you want too,
you date them because you don't have a choice.
they ask you out, take you on the date, then you say your goodbyes at the end of the night.
after that, the cycle keeps going, over and over.
until, one of you, decides they've had enough, and they end it.
that's when you go into a depressive state, and cry over a silly boy, or girl.
you don't cry over men or women, you cry over money, or your job.
but,
sometimes,
you cry,
because you need too,
"Charlie! we don't have all day!" Mom shouts.
i sit up quickly, "yeah! i'm coming!" i shout back.
i open the pill bottle on my nightstand and pop a pill into my mouth.
i chug some water and frantically get dressed.
i didn't want to go to school,
in case you're wondering,
Charlotte Sinclair, does not date.
i don't cry, i haven't cried in years, even after my dad passed.
i physically can't cry,
i've tried, believe me.
nothing,
i rush down the stairs with my book bag and follow my mom out to the car.
i get into the passenger seat and she turns on the ignition, starting our drive.
i look out the window looking at the trees and kids walking to school.
i hear my mom speaking but i zone her out a bit,
"so that's what we're doing tomorrow," she says.
"what are we doing tomorrow?" i ask snapping out of my trance.
she looks at me, "going to the Partridges, they've offered to have us over for dinner."
"what? you can go, i'm not going." i say.
"yes, you are." she seethes.
i roll my eyes subtly and we pull into the drop off area at my school, i get out of the car and say goodbye to my mom.
as soon as i walk into the school i feel eyes on me, i make my way to my first class.
History,
i hated this class, but the teacher, Ms Wilson, was the only good part about this class.
her mother died when she was around my age as well, she says i don't need to turn in the homework if i didn't have time to do it.
