Grey Love

Love

I can't love. I know that's a pretty bold statement to start my story off with, but it's true. I have tried countless times. Who knew it would be so hard to feel an emotion? Gender aside I am unable to be in a relationship. I'm an aromantic.

My few friends and family simply don't understand how displeasing it is to see a couple in public. How it feels to watch a romantic movie and know that will never happen to you. To be constantly stuck in the friend zone because you have no other choice. All the shitty love song on the radio mean nothing to me. You could be the hottest person on the planet, and I would still feel nothing.

Instead of red, I see grey.

My parents say I am blessed with my good looks. Hazel brown hair, fair skin, tall. When I am in the hallway and somebody approaches me and just tries to start a conversation I instantly turn them down. I don't want to hurt anybody, but I know as I walk away I have already hurt them. People can't get close to me without getting hurt. Now, I am not trying to convey that everybody fucking loves me. That's far from the truth. But once you experience what it's like to tell someone you'll never be able to love them after they've confessed their feelings to you is pretty disheartening.

My hands constantly tremble. Probably from anxiety. I can't really concentrate during studies and my grades at school are very poor. My past few years have been haunting. I just need one good thing to happen. To make it all go away. Mom says that I'll find somebody. Let's just say that I am a pessimist. How can you possibly long for a feeling? Things might change soon. We are moving to Manchester.

New people to meet.

New people to talk to.

New people to push away.

New people to hurt.

New people.

I keep myself very secluded. I have no friends anymore simply because I make it my mission to never talk to anyone. Nobody at my new school has heard me speak. I walk home alone even in the bitter cold. Manchester is very cold. The teachers have given up calling on me because they know I won't answer. If I don't let anybody in, I won't have to force them out.

The first day was hard. Not hard as in there was a bunch of pricks that found their hobby to be "beat up the new kid". Hard as in everybody was friendly and wanted to get to know me. The teachers, the students, the bloody lunch lady. Like hell I said anything in reply.

What's your name?

Daniel James Howell.

Where are you from?

London.

What's your favorite color?

Black.

How old are you?

The same age as you. Idiot.

Do you want me to show you around?

Get out of my way.

How can I help you get settled in?

Be quiet and leave me alone.

Of course, I said all of my answers in my head. Eventually they just walked off our continued on without my answer. The following week was exactly the same. I guess they gave up. I don't care. It's really easy not to. It's also apparently really hard for me to care at the same time. I fucking hate myself.

My new bedroom is nice. I spend all my time in there after school. I barely eat. On the weekends I don't go to parties or hang out with my friends. I press the black button on my computer and see the screen flick to life. My whole existence is on the internet. My parents don't understand why I don't have any friends, or why I am eighteen and still haven't brought a girl home for them to meet. They should be glad I don't bother them with all my problems after school and instead live in the small space of my room. The internet keeps me sane.