Story Of A Lonely Girl

Eighteen

-Tom's POV-

I walked back home from school with this guy I'm starting to be friends with. He goes to gym with me and his name's Travis. He's a hella rad guy and he's into cool shit like drums and art stuff; he also lives a few blocks away from school and lives very close to my house. So today we chose to walk back to our houses together, talking about how rad Green Day's new CD is. Yeah I know they're not a huge band and barely no one knows who they are, but who cares- they're awesome as fuck.

I suddenly changed the subject of what we were talking about, 'cause I wanted to ask him about something that was driving me insane these last few days. "Hey, Travis. Suppose that you like this chick, right?" I said still walking and looking at him; he nodded "Well, how do you tell her you like her?"

"Ooh, Tommy's in love already? Haha, wow!", he mocked. Yeah, Travis looked pretty shy but he could be a jerk sometimes. I'm starting to really like this guy. No, not in a gay way.

"Cut it off, Travis! I just wanna let her know how beautiful she is, that's all."

"You could write her a letter. I know it sounds kinda cheesy but most girls dig that kind of shit."

"Well, she's really not like the rest.", I said smiling at my feet while stepping on dry leaves and kicking small twigs that were in the middle of my way.

"At least give it try, Tom. You could also sing her a song, or buy her some shitty roses, take her to watch a sappy movie. Or mayb-"

"Hey Travis do you wanna be my girlfriend; you're so romantic.", I said with a really high pitched voice while battering my eyelashes. Travis burst out laughing and waved goodbye at me as he turned right and kept walking towards that direction, because his house was on that block. I kept walking another block by myself and knocked on my front door. My little sister Kari opened the door for me; she was eating a sandwich and had her mouth full, so she just waved a hand at me. I kissed her hair as I entered my home and then, with a lot of strength, I pushed her aside jokingly, making her fall headfirst on the couch. Kari yelled at me but I didn't understand a thing 'cause she had her mouth full. She knows I love her. After that, I ran off to my room and locked myself up in there.

I never open my backpack when I come back from school; I just basically leave it there lying on the floor like if it were litter. But this time, the first thing I did instead of grabbing my guitar was open my bag and take out my sloppy binder. I took out two pieces of descent looking paper from it, along with a black pen, and layed them on my small desk on the left corner of my room. To be honest, I never noticed I had a desk there; for months it was basically covered up with a huge pile of dirty clothes.

I stretched out the piece papers and thought on how to start my letter directed to Lucie while tapping the pen against my chin. "Dear Lucifer" I said aloud to myself "No, too formal. Think Thomas, think!" I slumped into my chair while my little brain was trying to work, but wasn't cooperating much at all. "To Lucifer." I said, speaking aloud. For a moment I liked it, but then I thought it was just too cheesy.

"Lucifer.", hey that's much better. "Good. Now remember to always stay fucking classy and simple, Tom. Chill. Relax. Chillax"

I slumped more into my chair, sort of defeated because about ten minutes had passed since I wrote the first and only word on my sappy love letter: 'Lucifer'. After a whole lot of thinking, words started coming out of my head and and falling onto the piece of paper. It was just like composing a song.

One word. Two words. Three words. A sentence. Another sentence. A whole parragraph. I stopped writing until I realized that It was 5pm and I was starving; maybe being hungry blocked away all my thoughts and just concentrated on food and left me with no inspiration at all. Fuck; but to be honest, I was more than glad and proud of myself for being able to write this fucking thing. I was satisfied by my own love letter even though my handwriting was sucky, there were blotches of black paint everywhere (because everytime I fucked up or didn't like what I wrote, I would just scratch it off with black pen ink instead of using White Out), and the corners of the paper were bent and crumpled; but if I were her, I would so date me.

Now came the hardest part: I'd have to give the letter to Lucie; and I can't remember where I left my own balls.