I think a lack of human interaction can fuck with anyone's mind. Then again, I think we all have something wrong with us. We're all only as fucked up as the people around us.
I don't know what I want with my life. I don't know if I want to move out of my mother's house. I'm not sure if I even want to be an art student any more. I don't know if I want to get married, or have kids. I also don't know if I want to live for that long.
Marriage seems too far away. It seems like too long of a time to wait for something that would only be an addition to all the problems I face on the daily.
I resent life. I resent the morning summer, the one people seem so fond of, the one that tends to make couples smile to one another under their covers, and children jump up in zeal for a potential day at the park or beach day.
I resent people. They aren't capable of meeting up to my expectations. They aren't capable of making smile, or laugh, or even slightly smirk. I'm not capable of doing the same for them.
"Ivy!" my mother calls.
Cynthia Cole, aka my mother, is a forty one year old accountant who's life is honestly more boring and just as miserable as mine. She doesn't hide it well either. If she's not drowning in alcohol, she's taunting me about everything I'm not and everything I should be. Horrible, but I can't live without her. Literally. She feeds and clothes me until I can find a job.
The woman in question bangs against my door.
"Wake up! You're gonna be late!" she yells.
I won't. My classes start at 2pm today. Sometimes she forgets I'm in college and not high school. Then again I doubt she knows. She never did come to my graduation.
If I were being honest, I resent myself. I'm repulsed by my body, I despise it with everything in me.
I get up like she wants me to because I don't want to start an argument about how I never listen to her.
I take a quick shower, and then get dressed into the usual sweatpants and hoodie look I have for everyday of the week and every week of the month.
I drive to campus, and sit under the tree next to the building, grabbing my book out of my back pack.
If there was anyone in the world that I didn't hate, it would be the anonymous author who wrote this book.
Stella.
I've read it about five times now, and this would be my sixth.
Reading makes me hate life a little less, maybe because it's the one time I'm actually not living it. I don't have feelings of my own, I have the character's feelings. If she's happy, I'm happy. And if she's sad, well, atleast she's not as sad as me.
This book is about a girl named Stella. She suffers from chronic mommy issues, atleast that's my way of putting it. She deals with them by sleeping with every woman past the age of thirty five.
What I like about Stella so much is her confidence. She is audacious, imprudent and honestly the most mentally ill person I know....i mean, I don't know her. She feigns confidence better than any actor can act. She fakes her smile better than any teenager with clinical depression.
It's not that she isn't sad, there are chapters where she cries about everything she goes through. But she wakes up the next day and does it all over again. It's boss behavior.
I run a hand through my loose, light brown hair to move it from blocking my vision as I continue to read.
"You're not supposed to be in here." Carolina says, trying to shoo Stella out of her home.
Stella remained still, showing the older woman her pearly whites. Then she unties the rope of the robe she was wearing, and slides it off herself, revealing her light, smooth skin.
She battered her eyelashes innocently, making Carolina gulp loudly, then ran her hands through her upper body.
"Where's your husband?" she asks.
Carolina is a married woman who honestly decided to cheat with the wrong girl.
"He's showering. Now, leave before he comes out."
I scoff as though I don't know this part of the story. Even if I didn't, I would know from previous chapters that Stella isn't going anywhere. The last thing she'll do is take orders from anyone.
Stella shakes her head, taking bold steps towards Carolina.
"That's not what you wanted last night." she coos with a slight smirk.
The woman fixes her eyes on Stella's blue irises, avoiding the sight of her bare body.
"This isn't funny." she speaks more sternly. "If you don't leave, I'll make you."
I can't help but smile at one of my favorite lines.
"Then do it." Stella whispers, taking steps closer until she's face to face with the woman. She leans closer to her, placing her lips against her ear. "Make me."
I read it over and over again, not quite over the goosebumps it gives me. If Stella were real I would ask her to teach me her ways. How can someone make a sad life look so sexy to live? I wish I could be as gifted.
Once I've read over the line enough, I take my eyes away from the book to give them rest, and breathe in the fresh air.
I look around the campus, not for any friends, I don't have any. But rather for a particular girl. I lift my hand up to look at the watch on my wrist.
She was usually here around twelve pm, or maybe she didn't have classes today.
I give up searching, looking back down at my book.
"You need to leave before you ruin my marriage." Carolina looks her dead in the eyes as she speaks.
She let's out a curt laugh, shaking her head and tsking as if she was disappointed.
"I didn't ruin your married, Cary, you did." she places her hand on her chest. "I'm just finishing the job." then she leans in, and presses their lips together.
I bite my bottom lip in anticipation of the next scene. Before I can get into it, a voice invades the silence.
"Alex!" the voice yells.
I look up quickly, as if it was my name that was uttered. Then I see her.
Alex. I don't know her last name yet, but her name feels like enough to me.
She wore black cargo pants today, and a red hoodie with black words across it. The words are too far to read, and I don't want to make it obvious I'm looking by trying to read them.
She may have been far, but she was closer to me than she's ever been. A good fifteen feet, I estimate. I can see her features clearly.
Her brown eyes as she squints them to see her friend, whom I know is Ryan. She has two other friends, Andre and Devionna.
What I admire most about her was her hair, and how effortless it always looked, yet still so beautiful. She had an afro, that puffed over her head and covered part of her ears and a portion of her forehead. I swear the only people that have touched that hair are the girls she fucks every other night at parties.
People say she's a bit weird. Atleast that's what I hear. Apparently, she's obsessed with women, a womanizer, they would call her.
I don't blame her. Women are gorgeous. But it's said that Alex values nothing beyond physical beauty. Hence, her taste.
She looked my way. I don't know why, but she did. And I got so scared I turned my attention back down to my book, allowing my hair to fall over my face to cover it.
The girls that get Alex's attention are all these sexy women with short skirt and curvy bodies. She likes women that wear makeup everyday, and walk in heels so easily it's as though they're wearing slippers. Girls who put in effort to actually look good. Girls who aren't me.
She wouldn't dare look my way, if she does it's by mistake.
I wonder if she ever considers that women have hearts, and personalities. I wonder if that would ever matter to her.
I wonder if I would ever matter to her.
I'm not sure why tears began to erupt in my eyes. It's not like Alex rejected me, I did that to myself way before she ever could.
I looked down at my book, not necessarily reading it, but merely skimming through the words.
It frustrated me to even look at it. I knew it wasn't real, usually I could easily put that aside, but not now. Now, reality felt too painful to ignore.
I wish I could be like Stella. I wish I had her kind of strength. I wish I had her confidence.
Alex would love me that way. Everybody loves Stella. She would stare at me from across the room, and I'd notice it quickly.
I'd come up to her, and tell her that I can tell she wants me, and tell her that the feeling is mutual. I would grab her by the collar of her shirt, and kiss without asking, because her eyes would've spoken and told me to.
I would break her heart, that was Stella's law. Break their heart before they break yours. Ruin them, because eventually, they will ruin you.
That's what I would do if I had Stella's persona.
I already have some of her features. Her ocean blue eyes, her light skin, her small frame. All I needed was her blonde hair. Better yet, forget physical attributes, I needed her confidence, or rather her entire personality.
I would make every woman turn my way, but I'll ignore them all to pretend I wasn't interested.
If only I was born as Stella. If I only had the pilgrim that was her body, and the masterpiece that was her mind.
That's all I thought as I wiped the tears off the page of my book.
I didn't want to be sad about yet another thing, it was idiotic.
I looked back up at the girl of my dreams, and the urge to talk to her became stronger. I felt a rush of courage.
Stella inspired it. The thought of her gave me a substantial boost to go over and just do it.
I got up from the ground, shoving the book into my bag.
Alex was moving inside towards the building. I wouldn't run after her. Then again, I didn't want to give myself any more time to overthinking and change my mind.
But alas, she was gone.
I began to think, that maybe it's a sign. Maybe I shouldn't. But I wanted to, so bad. I wanted her. At this moment, I didn't begin to think that maybe she doesn't want me as much.