She walked in the room and took her seat in the back next to familiar faces. Always close to someone she had common ground with. She found comfort in what was known, familiar, predictable, stagnant.
She scanned the room for more familiarities to ground herself in. Noting the spin wheels along the wall of windows sunlight rushed through, gracing this room of creativity. It seemed fitting for the only place she felt a semblance of freedom in. The tables in the middle ran parallel to the wheels. All straight, organized. No one worked as everyone, like her, surveyed the room. It was the first day after all, no chaos had commenced.
Movement snagged her appraising gaze. A boy, months away from being considered a man, strode in, surefooted, yet his eyes revealed uncertainty. His unkempt hair was on the longer side, just to his chin. He had a handsome face with a strong jawline and a nose that might just be a bit crooked.
He was searching for a spot to sit. She had never seen him before and always prided herself on knowing most people, considering it was a small town with whispers about everyone always circulating and suffocating. Rumors of a new kid drifted through the hallways that morning. She thought, matter-of-factly, he most likely was the one they spoke of.
Something flickered to life at the sight of him. Her eyes followed as he found his seat at the table of odd balls three down. Facing her.
There was no certainty in who he was, he came from nowhere and everywhere. He didn't smile and kept his eyes down, yet he sat up straight, proud almost. A strong stance against clear discomfort with his situation. How could he feel firm in a place of judgmental eyes?
She was... intrigued? If she really gave it thought, as close as someone could come to that cheesy saying, love at first sight.
There was nothing to find solace in as she evaluated the risk of trying to know him. The longer she pondered, the more an urge overcame her to approach him. Imagining a moment of such confidence made her heart pound to the beat of racing thoughts. Her breathes became jagged and her stomach sank to her toes as she looked down the gaping expanse of the unknown. A valley cloaked in fog loomed below the mountain she never dared to leave.
A part of her she rarely allowed to acknowledge spurred to life. It said, dive. Let the air rush past you, let the gravity pull you, let yourself feel weightless, reckless, spontaneous. What might that be like to let the pressure evaporate as she plummeted to the bottom, if there ever was one?
The wild inside her screamed, set fire to the ground you stay rooted to. The chaos she reigned over craved to see the flames lick the air around her as she welcomed the unknown's hollow embrace. She began to want it, too. Eager to bear witness as it clashed and thrashed leaving nothing but ash. Wanted it to erase all that kept her seated in her chair. Kept her from saying a simple "hello" to the man three tables down.
She wanted to see herself fight, to stand on her own two feet. Was this what it felt like to welcome what is unknown? To step, or rather leap off the mountain of comfortability?
Unsure of the answer, she continued to stare and realized she wanted to do more than step. She was surely going to leap.
And that was the scariest thought she had since she was a child that prided herself in the ability to run with no shoes. She was fearless and the world hadn't yet buried her still beating heart in worries, doubts, uncertainties. Still breathing, she was entombed in a place that forced her to never feel more than she was expected to. To care for others and never herself. To stay quiet within the coffin of perceived perfection.
In quick, surefooted strides, she reached the edge of the unknown. A match appeared in her cold, pale fingers.
Swiping it against the barren rock, it lit and she reveled in the heat.
She was not going to linger in what ifs. She was not going to look down. She was going to jump backwards and watch as it all burned. Then, she'd look up at the sky, wish on stars, and drown herself in believing she'd land on her own two feet. And the man three tables down looking at her with furrowed brows was her key to a world that'd unleash her wild, chaotic, passionate heart.
Whoosh.
