Written words

In the Back Row

Hey y'all so this would be week four. This week's topic is a shy person meeting others. The cliche way of doing this is to have the girl meet a guy and they fall madly in love, with rainbows, unicorns, and glitter. But I don't write cliche stories. I read them and love them, but I despise writing them. So this story is different. This story is about a girl who sits in the back of the class, alone and a boy who sees her and talks to her. But love doesn't come out of this. Nope instead there is something else. Something much darker, much scarier than you could've ever thought.

Head down. No eye contact is to be made. I can't let people get close to me. It stimulates the brain too much, then things that made sense don't make sense anymore. I am bipolar. It's a fact. One I accepted a long time ago. So I stay out of people's way and become invisible. I wear dark clothing and barely any make up, so I don't get noticed. I sit in the back of the classroom with my hair hiding my face and the hood of my sweatshirt pulled up over my head. I slouch down and never raise my hand. I pay attention though, I get okay grades. I'm not stupid, I just am not known for being smart.

A sigh escapes my lips as I lean back in my seat and wait for yet another class to begin. Someone sits down in the seat to my right. I don't look at them, even though I really want to. No one ever sits by me. Why is this person sitting here? A thousand questions fly through my mind about this mysterious person sitting to my right, but they shall all go unanswered.

"Hey," says a voice. I don't look up. The voice is not for me. Someone nudges my shoulder. "Hey," says the voice again. This time I look up, searching for the source of the voice. It is from the person sitting next to me. The person happens to be a boy. A boy with warm chocolate brown eyes and dark brown, almost black hair. His voice was like honey dripping from his lips.

"Are you talking to me?" I asked quietly. He smiled a heart stopping smile. I blushed.

"Yes, I am," he answered confidently. I looked at the ground.

"Why? Why me?" I asked.

"Because I see you. You are not invisible like you think," he said. I smiled. The bell rang and Mr. Thomas began his lecture.

***
Weeks went by and we had small conversations. Slowly I learned more about him. He would talk and I remained silent, comfortable with just listening to the honey drip off his lips. His favorite color was navy blue. Mine was lilac, because that is what he thought it was. I don't have favorite things. I live in a world of dullness and gray. Colors don't exist. The more colors the more stimulating it is. And after the last incident, I refuse to stimulate my brain more than necessary. I won't cause anymore pain to others. So I ignore the colors.

His favorite food is fajitas. Mine is eggplant parmesan because that was his guess. I don't eat a wide selection of foods. If I eat something crazy it could stimulate my brain. Every precaution must be taken. I will not have another incident.

He liked to watch the Harry Potter movies. I liked to watch The Princess Bride. I had never heard of it but he said I loved it so I do. I needed a friend who liked me. I couldn't say no and disappoint him. I didn't want to be all alone again.

I still sit alone under the tree at lunch. I eat slowly and quietly, staying in my own little world. Sometimes I watch him. No matter what I do I am slowly becoming attached to him. No one approaches me and I'm too afraid to step out and talk to other people. Someone else needs to make the first move. I can't do it. I am far to shy for that.