UNEDITED!
"I can't act like I'm not in love with you!" he says at last. Every single drop of confidence fades away from my body.
"What did you say?" I ask, the words sounding like a whisper. He looks down on me with a warm look in his eyes.
He puts...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
How do we call a place home? Home is a place where we feel safe at, a place to sleep, a place to have a family. Home can't just be an empty room with nothing in it.
I can't call my own house home.
Everyday, I come home I feel empty. That feeling in the pit of my stomach devouring every nerve in my body. It doesn't feel right to see all the emptiness under your Christmas tree, the bedsheets on your parents bed still made for weeks, the dust collected on the tables in the living room because you're never home, the cold feeling on Thanksgiving, or the pain of seeing everyone outside with their family eating barbecue on the Fourth of July.
It's not right for your parents to forget about you.
I don't feel sad, nor angry at them. I just feel guilty. They never planned in having me, did they? I ruined all of their plans, their lives, and their future.
My dad always told me that my mom felt left out with the other moms in our group when they went to bars while she was pregnant. She wanted to get wasted but she didn't because she loved me so much.
Love, my ass.
She never loved me, hell, she only cared so she had the look of a perfect family. My family was never even real.
It was all a lie. A show. Just that forgotten son living in their house as they travel the world. No one knew except our friends. I hate the pity they give me when they talk about family events.
The only person who made me feel loved was her. That brown, smiley, cheerful, beautiful girl who was my best friend.
How am I going to have the heart to tell her that I'm leaving? 4 weeks exactly..
On her last championship game.
**
"I hadn't seen this place in forever," she laughs and urges me to go on. My eyes go over the trees with vines on the branches, the waterfall and the trickling water, and the bright flowers dotted around the edge of the cliff her and I used to sit at every night.
I can't rip my gaze away from the sight across from me. Another cliff with more trees. This area was quite ghosted. Only a hiker or two we saw but only us. Sierra brushes the ground with her hand and sits down with her legs dangling. The cliff wasn't tall, but still a drop and it terrified me to see her so close to the edge.
She pats the space next to her and turns across from her staring at the view I was just looking at. I slowly walk forward, pebbles running across the surface, and sat down with a sigh. The tension of those silly arguments we had before fizzed out yet I still feel guilty.
