Unparalleled

four

(Not edited at all. Like seriously I didn't even read this through after I finished writing it before posting.)

Max,

Ever since we broke up, I can feel the lonliness sinking in. It sinks slowly and feels like I'm swimming through caramel. Except not really because caramel tastes like joy and lonliness does not. So I guess it's more like swimming through black goo that smells like dead fish and has the same consistency as caramel.

I'm glad we figured out what I am metaphorically swimming through.

Also that I might smell like dead fish. I feel like a dead fish. I mostly just feel dead, but there is probably a fishy aftertaste if I think about it hard enough. Sometimes there are people I see in the hallways that I think I could be friends with and then I remember that I'm a dead fish and no one really wants a dead fish for a friend. There are plenty more fish in the sea I guess, but then I remember that I don't even like fish so what's the point of hoping someone else will too.

Lonliness has always been around. It lurks behind my tired eyes and taunts me with its twisted cackle. It strides along side me as I am forced to be the friend to walk behind the group. It twists its knot tighter in my throat when they talk about their weekend plans right in front of me, but never bother to ask if I wanted to join. In fact, the only way to make sure I'm included is to plan it myself and invite people. But I don't because they obviously don't want to be near me. Lonliness cuts me off in conversations and laughs to be polite at my stories that weren't even supposed to be funny. I know they're not real friends, but they're the closest thing I've got right now.

Lonliness is the two girls in the corner who keep staring at me and laughing. I don't know why. I do know that I spent an hour and a half getting ready this morning so would look presentable and not like death. For once I felt satisfied with my appearance. Light makeup and a new shirt can do wonders for your confidence. But two cackling girls can reverse that feeling in 7 seconds flat. As flat as a heart monitor when it's too late.

Maybe my heart isn't beating.

I try to pretend like it's not happening, but that's hard when it's just me and my thoughts at two in the morning. When I sit up, the only person there is me. And the only one who cares is me. The only one who understands is me. I scare myself. My mind can twist any situation and make it worse than it is.

I really should not be left alone. I don't want to be alone, oh goodness, no. But, everytime I have company, I make myself uncomfortable and then they get uncomfortable, and then it feels like an iron curtain is separating me from the normal people.

I want attention, I really do. I just don't know what to do with it once I've got it. When I was with you, I was never lonely because I could always talk to you or to the group we hung out with. They don't talk to me anymore, in case you wanted to know. They are as stiff and silent as clothes hung to dry on a line outside during the summer.

Besides losing you, I think my biggest regret is that I lost them too. They never went out of their way to be my friend or to make me feel comfortable, but they tolerated me. I could sit with real, live people after school instead of under the empty tree where the birds liked to stay. Maybe people thought I was a crazy bird lady and that's why no one spoke to me. The truth is, I hate birds. And I really hate that tree. Mostly because I don't feel like I deserve to go some place quieter.

I must wait out my penance under the screaming sparrows in the itchy grass.

That's where I'm writing this letter, by the way. You can probably see me from your spot on the fifth picnic table to the left of the building. You're laughing with your friends. None of them have asked about me, I assume. If they wanted to know, they could have come over to talk. But the only talking are the screaming sparrows.

If I clap my hands loud enough, they fly to the telephone wires by the football field and I can get five minutes of peace. I don't want any attention though, so I sit under the screams and hope you're not as miserable as me. If one of us got away from this mess unscathed, it might as well have been you.

- Luisa

FUN FACTS FOR MY COOL BEANS:
- It took me six months to write this trash your welcome
-I hate this chapter with passion that burns brighter than my future
- I love Hamilton (the Broadway musical) and blame the Spotify soundtrack for the reason of this dreadful delay
- Pretty sure I hate this book too :) it's fine
-Luisa is having emotional problems that I don't understand because she is not a fully developed character whatsoever in any sense of the phrase
-Vote and comment nice things to give me confidence if you feel so inclined
-If you don't feel so inclined, keep your meanie butt comments away from this environment

Please join me in my wallowing self-pity, thanks. Your moral support for a struggling author is appreciated.

Fondly,
Amanda