Liquid Feels - Book 3 - DP Series - Complete

13. Broken Boy

Saturday finally rolls around and I spend the morning primping. By that, I mean that I simply showered and shaved my legs. I may have even plucked a few stray eyebrows hairs, but other than that, there wasn't much else to do. When it comes to beauty, I tend to keep it pretty natural. Not the armpit hair kind of natural, but natural as in little to no make-up. I throw my hair up into a messy bun—somehow missing a couple of chunks but realizing I kind of like the look of the strands dancing around my face—and then settle down on my bed to study until Seth texts.

Emma's gone this weekend to visit her mom, so I've got the entire place to myself. And I hate it. There's something about being alone that makes my chest constrict. I imagine it feels similar to someone who's claustrophobic being shoved into a tight space. It's suffocating.

Being along means being very present with myself and my thoughts. I tend to try to avoid such situations because it means I have to process things and try to 'understand' myself. That's an impossible task and it leaves me drained. It also is an undesired reminder of just how exhausting I probably am to other people.

I turn on some Smino and do my best to follow the rapping genius as I dance around the room mouthing the lyrics. At one point I'm on stage with him, my bed the platform, as we rap to the sea of invisible fans crowding into my room. I definitely should have pursued a career that involved fame. Being loved by half the world while ignoring the hate from the other half would suit my needs just fine. I'm good at ignoring things that don't boost my ego.

But maybe that's my problem.

If Seth were a rapper, he'd be loved by the entire world. I've been doing things all wrong and that's a hard concept to handle. I don't treat everyone with respect the way that Seth does. I don't forgive quickly or regard a person's feelings. If someone doesn't build me up or add value to my life, I drop them. If they wrong me, I drop them. If they have a single flaw, I dig at it.

All of this makes me sound like a complete monster, but in truth, I'm just like everyone else. We tend to separate ourselves from negativity. We gossip about the people we call friends. We abandon good things in exchange for what we think will be better.

But it's wrong. I'm wrong.

I never realized that in my need to be unique and different from everyone else, I'd somehow become just like the rest of the world. Without Seth, I'd never have seen it. He woke me up to just how inner-focused and cold I really am. But not only that, he's inspired me to want better. The goodness that radiates from him, I crave it.

But do I truly crave to be a better person, or do I just envy the respect I see in others' eyes when Seth's in the room? Once again, my own desire for fame has become my ultimate driving force. I don't simply want to be a good person; I want to be a good person so that people will gravitate to me. Which has another thought jumping into my jumbled mind...

If a person's goodness isn't genuine, then is it truly goodness?

I drop down onto my bed, Smino's voice still going strong in the background while I stuff my face into my pillow and groan. This is why I hate being alone. Thoughts that are too difficult to process begin to bombard me and I have no answers that will settle them. It's just an irritating cycle of one impossible thought after another.

Finally, after two agonizing hours alone, my phone chimes. Seth is almost here. I sing a 'hallelujah' to the ceiling and hurry to the bathroom to brush my teeth and slap on some mascara.

Looking fresh, I pull on my boots and start making my way to the elevator at the end of the hall. Just as I reach to press the down arrow, the doors slide open and I find Seth leaning against the wall, talking to someone on the phone. He glances up at me, a smile spreading across his face as he waves me into the metal contraption.