"A thanks to all my tears
Who were always there in my darkest times when I was alone."
This book is not about my pathetic pitied self. Perhaps that's all they'll ever see me as, perhaps they'll always assume that I was the victim. Perhaps this will...
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Sixth grade started with my heart still hurting. I was sis-zoned. But it kept going, nothing much happened. I became more composed, and started keeping to myself. For my eleven-year-old self, the heartbreak was too much to take.
I didn't talk much to any guy. I didn't want to be hurt again. I vowed to not talk to or even look at any guy without any reason.
I kept myself distracted from everyone and everything, kept my focus on my grades and then lockdown came.
Everything was happening too fast for my taste.
When lockdown came, I started painting again. At first it was just one or two canvases, but then I had and entire room filled with paintings, one better than the other. It was lockdown quietened down, and art galleries started opening up.
I started presenting my work and started getting recognisation. It was like a blissful dream. I had more awards than I could count, I was on television every day. It was wonderful. I painted all day and all night. It made me happy, it helped me deal with the solitude.
And then he texted me.
Not Jacob, no.
A classmate of mine, Reece. We had to make a presentation together for school. School was online back then. It was eighth grade and I was as dumb as ever, I guess.
I didn't talk to him first. I kept the mask up, I kept ignoring him and avoiding him. I answered shortly at first, but he got me opening up slowly.
Once I was at my great-grandmother's place for a family gathering on Easter and he'd called me. It was the first time we'd talked on phone. The memory of his voice back could make me smile anytime.
I had picked up the phone and said, "Hello,"
And he'd said, "Hi,"
And then for the next entire twenty seconds, he'd stuttered, trying to find the right words. Trying to tell me what he wanted to tell me.
"What is it, Reece?" I asked, my voice the softest I had ever heard. I still remember that tone I used, even though I could never replicate it again. It was soft, composed, angelic and feather-like. I loved that voice.
It reminded me of sirens.
Sure, my voice was nothing compared to a siren. But it was the closest it could get.
His tension automatically melted away, and we started talking.
The conversation wasn't long. I didn't speak much, but that voice stayed put.
He called again a few days later. We had talked on chat now and then for rather long times. When he called again, the conversation started off smoothly, and we talked about things other than than our presentation. We talked about our mutual friends and made fun of them.
And that was when he suddenly asked me about our previous crushes.
I was hesitant at first, but it didn't take long for me to open up. And suddenly, I was telling him all about Jacob and he told me about a girl he liked.
