Disarray [H.S.]

Chapter Twelve

Excuse me if I seem a little unimpressed with this
An anti-social pessimist,
but usually I don't mess with this
Oh, God, why am I here?

————

TWO YEARS AGO

The drink I was holding was handed to me not long after I walked through the front door of this annoyingly large house with Noa. I had no idea what was in this cup, some type of alcohol obviously, but I didn't care to drink it. I just took the cup that was aggressively being shoved in my face and made my way towards the living room where I knew there would be couches and was hoping for an open seat.

"Hey, I'm gonna go find Elijah, I'll catch up with you later, okay?" Noa speaks over the loud music, grabbing my upper arm to ensure I was hearing what she was saying.

I knew she was gonna end up finding her boyfriend at some point, but I didn't expect her to ditch me so soon. I mean, we just barely walked through the door. But, either way, I smiled at her and nodded, "Yeah, for sure."

"Okay, cool. See if you can find Ryan, I'll see you later!" She widely grins at me before spinning on her heel and walking in the opposite direction. I just continued my walk to the couch where thankfully I found a spot to sit.

I knew Ryan was here, it was his house, of course he was here, but I also knew that he would be drinking, and I don't particularly enjoy being around him while he's drunk. I'll just wait until he finds me. Although in the back of my head, I was kind of hoping he didn't.

It's not like we were dating. I'm not quite sure what exactly we are, actually, but Ryan didn't really like labels anyways. We had been seeing each other for a little over a year now. He told me that I was his, I belonged to him, but he didn't want me to call him my boyfriend. I don't think he wanted to be tied down. He seemed to really like me, though. He paid attention to me, talked to me, made an effort to see me, and he was nice to me most of the time. No one has ever given me this kind of attention before, so he must really like me.

And it's been so long. Why would he stick around me for so long if he didn't like me?

I couldn't for the life of me figure out how someone could actually like me, but Ryan did, so I should be happy about that, right?

I should be appreciative and I should be grateful that he likes me, and I like him too. I really do. He's very attractive, and a grade above me; he's one of the most well known, popular guys at school, and he chose me, out of all people to get involved with. I have to like him, and I truly do. He's a good guy deep down.

I just don't really like him when he's drunk. He can get mean, but it's not his fault, it's the alcohol's fault. I just remind myself that it's alcohol speaking and acting, not him. Never him.

Hours passed by as I sat lonely on this couch. The only time I had gotten up was to use the bathroom. However when I got there I was met with muffled whimpers and moans coming from the other side of the door so immediately I turned around and went back to the couch and haven't gotten back up since.

Time passed by ridiculously slow. I watched people interacting with each other, mingling, dancing, sharing drinks, some were even sharing blunts. I somewhat envied those I watched. How they acted like they didn't have a care in the world. I'll bet they all lived perfect lives, with perfect families and perfect friends. I'll bet they never had a worry in the world. They all seemed so happy.

What a life to live.

Maybe I was wrong though. I should know better than to judge someone before I get to know them. Maybe they seemed happy on the outside, but were fighting to stay alive on the inside. I mean, take me for example. I had some close friends, I had a guy who liked me, and I was invited to parties. To someone who doesn't know the real me, the me that goes between crying herself to sleep at night, and staring at the walls staying awake all night, the me who has spent the past five years in a foster home, the me who has no family, the me who doesn't eat as much as she should because she wants to fit in and be skinny and pretty like the other girls at school, the me who who has scars covering her hips, a result of her weakest moments, to someone who doesn't know that me, they'd see me and think I was happy. If anyone knew the real me, they'd never look at me twice.