Week 12 Journal

Facade

I love him. I love everything about him, and I know he loves me. After putting my friendships aside for him, that’s when I realized how much I need him. He told me that I couldn’t spend more time with them than I spent with him, so I had to let it go. It doesn’t matter, anyway, because I love him.

When our arguments started, it hurt me more than anything in the world. I couldn’t, and still don’t, understand why he got upset at me over the smallest things. Once, he got mad at me for taking too long to respond to his texts. It had only been an hour. And sometimes, he wouldn’t respond to me for the whole day. Those days that he got mad at me are the worst. I end up sitting in the bathroom and crying nonstop. At one point, it got so bad that I considered breaking up with him, but I can’t do that; I love him. And besides, he told me that he’d kill himself if I left him.


Specimen

There she was again. Beatrice Fulvia. The girl who always sat at the lunch table but barely spoke to anyone. I don’t know what it was about her that made her so...I don’t know. I couldn’t decide how I felt about her. I couldn’t stand looking at her face anymore, though. It was as if I wanted to be friends with her, but I couldn’t be. She was stupid.

She got up to throw away her trash, and I followed her to the garbage can on the other side of the cafeteria.

“You really ate that much?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she said and turned away.

I didn’t want her to leave. “Fat bitch,” I muttered.

“What?” She turned back to me.

“You heard me.”

“What did I do to you?”

“I bet you’re a lesbian.”

“Okay?”

I stepped so close to her, I could smell the flowery-scented perfume coming from her body. Her hair looked so perfect the way it had been styled: a shoulder length cut with bangs that nearly covered her eyes and pink streaks in it. What if she did like girls?

Beatrice stepped away from me, and turned to walk back to the table again. I couldn’t lose her, I didn’t want her to leave.

“Wait!” I called.

“What do you want?”

I couldn’t think of anything to keep her there. “Nevermind.”

It didn’t feel right to follow her back to the table. Maybe she didn’t deserve being treated the way I treated her, but it was her fault. She could stop being weird.

No, she wasn’t even weird. She was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I didn’t have to treat her the way I did, but I didn’t want to think she was pretty. What if I was the lesbian? I couldn’t be. My parents would never accept that. I couldn’t like her like that. That was weird.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Week 3 Journal

The Memory Most nightmares eventually came to an end, but not Veda’s nightmares. Almost every single night for as long as she could remember, she would scream for help as she burned alive in a fire, but no one was around. She’d wake up with skin that felt as if it were still burning. The only way she could cool herself down was by drenching herself in cold water. The worst part was, she knew it wasn’t just a nightmare, it was real. She would wake up covered in burns. Her skin would remain bright pink for days, and some of her scars never went away. She wanted to escape from the nightmare, but people would probably think she was crazy if she told anyone. Besides, maybe she was just hallucinating. That would be a much more rational explanation. She wanted that to be true, but knew all too well that it wasn’t. There was definitely something wrong with her, though. Even a therapist probably wouldn’t be able to help her. Veda had lost contact with almost everyone she knew. She barely even l...
Read more

Title Game Exercise

Saccharine The first thing that Rebecca did when she got to work every day was make herself a cup of coffee. Like most people who worked a regular, boring office job, she needed caffeine to keep herself awake for the entire day. Between the sleep deprivation from having to wake up before the sun came up, and her monotonous job, she was never fully awake. The rumbling of the coffee pot had almost put her to sleep, when it suddenly came to a stop, telling her that the coffee was ready. She took the cup and added an excessive amount of sweetener into it. That’s the way she liked to drink it. “You might want to stop putting so much sweetener into that coffee of yours,” said a scratchy voice. An old woman walked out from behind Rebecca’s view. Rebecca was startled at the sight of her. Her face was sagging and wrinkly. Her clothes—a long, gray-tinted dress that fell past her knees, along with a black cloth that covered most of her gray, disheveled hair—were full of stains. It looked as if sh...
Read more