My favorite thing...right now. Well, reading is definitely pretty high on the list. So is writing in my story. And playing piano. Those are probably my three favorite things to do right now. It's actually really sad. I guess I just like being alone. Not to say I don't love hanging out with my friends, because I do. (speaking of which, we went to Meijer in dresses. It was the fanciest thing I've done in a long time. I almost bought $15 shoes...I wish I would have.) Honestly, whenever I do things with my friends, it takes a lot to get me out of the house, a lot of lectures to myself, and maybe a motivational speech or two. But once I do leave, I always have a great time and don't want to go home. So maybe reading, writing, and playing piano are top on my list of favorite things to do because it's more accessible and causes me less stress. (I stress out every time I leave the house...yay social anxiety.)
So...this post is super short, and I don't know what else to say. Would you like to read a portion of a story of mine? I'll pick one of my favorite parts for you. It's not a happy scene, by any means, but I still love it. We finally start to figure out what's going on in Jamie's head.
[Austen and Jamie are discussing their favorite colors at the opening of this scene.]
I dropped my
voice to a whisper and paused for dramatic effect. “The rules of a pinky
promise.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Well, you can’t
break a pinky promise,” I told him.
“What happens if
I do?” he asked, just as serious as I was.
“You won’t…because
it’s a pinky promise.”
Austen nodded.
“Fair enough.”
“Do you still
want to know, now that you know how serious this is?” I asked, still solemn.
He just held out
his pinky. “Come on Jamie. All I’m asking is why.”
“The risk is
yours,” I resigned, twisting my pinky with his. “Black is always black. No
matter how many things change around you, black will always be the same. Now
with other colors, they change. There isn’t just blue anymore. There’s aqua
blue, royal blue, navy blue and so on. And it’s the same with all the other
colors. Black is just different.”
“I thought you
just said it was the same!” Austen protested.
I hit him on the
arm, knowing it wouldn’t hurt him at all. “You know what I mean.”
Austen laughed
and I glared at him. He held his hands up. “I’m not laughing at your
explanation. I’m laughing at your frustration. It’s funny.”
I just continued
to glare.
“Look,” he said,
“I’m sorry, okay?”
“Fine,” I
grumbled, but letting my mouth turn up slightly, to let him know that it was
okay.
“Can I ask you
another question?” He asked, reaching over to grab my hand. Having physical
contact with another person made my hair stand on end, but I let him do it. It
made me seem like I was just like everyone else, a feeling that has been alien
to me for so long.
“You just did,”
I said, sarcastically. “But, if you want to ask another one, I guess you can.”
He squeezed my
hand lightly. “Why did you do it?”
I froze, and
then slowly pulled my hand away from him. “Why are you asking me that? Are you
trying to analyze me? Am I just some sick problem that you’re trying to solve?”
“No, of course
not,” he said, reaching for my hand again. “I wouldn’t do that, Jamie. I’m just
trying to understand. That’s all I wanted was to understand.”
I looked at his
hand, clutching mine, and then into his hazel eyes. He truly looked concerned.
But I also saw the pity, the pity that I saw over and over again in other eyes.
But I wanted to share my thoughts with someone, for once.
“I just…” I
cleared my throat, which was already closing with the effort it took to try not
to cry. But there were already tears in my eyes. “I just didn’t want to be me
anymore. I didn’t want to be here.”
“Jamie…” Austen
said, pulling me into his arms and holding me tight. “I’m here for you now.
I’ll be here.”
I cried, the
pain of that night washing over me. And, although Austen was here and he made
me feel things that I had tried so hard to feel, I was still the same empty me,
the same me that I didn’t want to be.
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