2 Chapter Two

"Hey, Myra! How's the day treating you?" Well, should I or should I not be honest about the question in focus? Kevin gives me a sympathetic smile, and I reassure him that it isn't bothering me. We share a kind of telepathy that loners can only understand.

"Uh, you know… could be better, could be worse. The same old. How about you? Did you come back from your practice? You're reeking," I say to him, stating the obvious. Although, I don't think he noticed that about himself. See, if there's one thing people fail to do, it's observing the unpleasantness about one's personality, even if it's exterior.

He looks at me for a second too long and bursts out laughing—a full-blown laugh at that.

In my complete attempts to continue conversations, sometimes, I offend people. I offend people by stating the obvious. But lucky for me, Aaron can take a joke or two.

"Haha! Well, yes. And yes, I do, and I am sorry about that. I was supposed to head to the gym to get changed. Instead, I just came back from my laps. And no, it wasn't practice. I was punished for bunking three classes under the pretext of practice. Some kid ratted me out. But c'est la vie, i guess?"

"C'est la vie, indeed. Anyway, I have got to go. If I stand in your presence for another second, I think I will pass out." I muster a small smile at him and politely excuse myself. We bid him goodbye and start navigating my way through the web, knitted by people.

"Hey, wait! Will you be coming for the camp, though?" I hear Aaron yell behind me.

"I don't know for sure," I yell back at him. I see him smile at me, so I am assured that he heard me in the bustling people's station.

Kevin and I make our way outside, talking about this fantastic show he just watched, and he recommends it. I will never understand his obsession with sci-fi, just as he won't understand my obsession with shows based around the Victorian period. I mean, honestly, the name one show that's based around the victorian period is terrible. It's impossible.

Five more minutes to the next class, and then it'll be all over. I will be home in 2 hours. I have Literature, and Kevin has Math. God, I will never understand people who understand math. And Kevin is, unfortunately, one of those who do.

We go our separate ways from the corridors, and I miss him already. The day is exhausting, to say the least, and to think that I have to encounter few more painful hours before I can finally go back home, set myself in my bed, and read Dan Brown makes me sick. That is all I want to do right now, and that is something I will not be able to do for the next at least 2 hours.

Should life be difficult at all times? Unfortunately, the answer is yes. Just when you think that things are working seamlessly for you, you will be struck with a thunderbolt till the walls of your brain and hearts collide. But for the sake of it, let's be optimistic about it.

No, let's not be optimistic about it because in from the main gates comes Jesse in all his satanic glory. Seriously, it's been over a year, and he can still make me feel like a little girl. It's disappointing that I have no self-control.

Dear Lord, please forgive me for I have sinned.

I see Jesse making his way towards me while high-fiving some students across the corridor. The corridor I bustling with life, and I plaster a smile on my face, as hard as it may be -- a genuine smile. Well, he's not a bad person; in fact, he's kind. Or at least he used to be. Now he's like every other famous guy in a big town, like the rest of them, but that could just be a facade. I am not trusting anybody here. I trusted him enough, and look where that got me— months of crying, a broken heart, massive trust issues, and, well, a lonely life.

Am I strong enough to go through all of that again? I don't think so.

Is anybody strong enough for that? That's right. I didn't think so either.

I pass by a whole crowd and make my way to my locker. Locker number 63, next to Jesse's, 64. This is where we spoke for the first time after I bumped my door against his head and caused a significant bump on his forehead. He wasn't mad about it. He just smiled at me and told me to be careful. All this while he was smiling and making my heart go woot-woot. Good memories. Good times.

Now, this locker only causes a feeling of uneasiness and emptiness in my heart. I wish this would be over soon. But, honestly, I am just waiting for the day when my school life would be over, and I will get to move out, thus not seeing him. Or he moves out, thus not having to see him in that case as well.

We don't share many classes, so I don't bump into him often. Often. Sometimes I do. And those days are awful.

So I gather my stuff and gather every last piece of sanity that's left in me after every time I see him and move as quickly as possible. I practically run. Being around him makes me lose my head, and I can't afford that. My head is the only precious part of me that's left of me.

After our breakup, people naturally assumed that I'd be a vengeful bitch who will be on a roll to sleep with anyone with a dick and legs. But you can imagine their disappointment when they found out that I wasn't bitchy.

During my time around him, he introduced me to his friends. We had fun outings, dates. Time was merry. And the fact that he never made fun of me for my poor status drew me more towards him. On the contrary, he accepted me the way I was. And he never once made me feel inferior. We were both equals.

The class isn't boring. We discuss the importance of war literature and how it helps us reconnect with our bloodied past in ways. Although I agree, the poem we've been discussing sends shivers down my spine. It is beautiful, and it is devastating.

It is devastatingly beautiful.

Finally, the school bell ticked off. It's about time. The day is over.

Unlike others, I don't take the school bus, majorly because my family couldn't afford it. The school is prestigious, and if it weren't for the fact that I worked my butt off to clear that one competition, I wouldn't even be here in the first place.

But rest assured, I am a misfit in the literal sense of the word. I will never fit it. I don't belong here. And the people around me ensure that I feel like it. They make it a point to let me know that. Every. Damn. Day.

I make my way to the bus station, and I can already spot familiar faces around me. The old Joe who runs his salon shop isn't present today. I wonder if he's okay? Then there's Mary, who runs her bakery shop with her 13-year-old daughter. Her cookies are to die for. No joke!

I am waiting down at the station. I don't remember - I think it was late then. I am still standing, the surrounding always so quiet. It makes me think we're like elevators filled up with strangers. At least the school feels that way. I am a misfit, completely. A piece of a puzzle that doesn't fit anywhere.

I want to fit in. I want to know what it feels like to be carefree.

I play my current favorite on my Samsung. The phone screen cracks remind me of my own life and how it is cracked from every corner. But unlike the phone, I cannot get it fixed nor replaced. The only way to deal with that would be to continue hoping.

My hopes aren't too high. At this point in life, I am hoping for a better day tomorrow. And tomorrow, I will hope for a better next day. And I will repeat the same hope till it's my last day. I see my bus from afar and I can't wait tp get back home and breathe loudly. The Paper Kites are singing in my ears— another band that he introduced me to.

"Our words fill up the pages

Fill up the days with psalms for the ages

Still, those vows that we all speak

We break them like concrete

And just make our words cheap."

I have his number still saved on my phone. I haven't deleted our conversations, our pictures, our memories. The voice notes are imprinted in my brain and echo around the walls of my heart like my favourite mixtape. It's been a year, but this pain doesn't end. My happy home isn't mine anymore, as I see countless of his flings come and go by in his corridor.

"I want someone to grow with

Songs I can sing to, and I family to cling to

But If I can't get the things I want

If I can't get the things I want

Just give me what I need."

He introduced me to bands and his favourite artists. He played guitar for me. And now, nothing. But I have to brave and continue my unbothered facade. He doesn't affect me anymore, or at least he doesn't have to know that he does.

The Jesse I was in love with is in the past, and all I see now is a man with a change of heart. A proud man. Who is mean. Who is brutal. Who is indifferent to the sufferings of others.

A man who I will never love.

But it's a good thing that he left me. It will save everyone the trouble.

And just like this, another day has gone. Few more to go.