in which a broken-hearted boy describes the after effect of losing love and friendship.
meet grayson, a boy whose mind works as fast as his heart beats, and loves as much as he can. this is the life of a boy who lost everything.
**completed**
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wednesdays were almost as bad as tuesdays. almost. the day after olivia died was the second worst day of my life; her death being the first worst day. today was a wednesday, and it felt horrid. i felt horrid. i missed nichole, and i missed samson. we looked at each other today. i think his heart cracked a little when my eyes met his. i know mine did. tears welled up in my eyes as his eyes looked back at mine with regret and pure sadness. the girl next to me seemed to notice because she furrowed her eyebrows and asked me if i was okay. that's when we broke eye contact, me and samson. because i turned my attention to the girl seated beside me. she looked concerned, and for a second, i hoped maybe she really was. i hoped that maybe, she just genuinely wanted to know if i was okay.
but i am grayson. grayson sike, and nobody genuinely wants to know if i'm okay anymore. not unless they want to know what happened to courtney? or where's nichole? how's alex doing, he looks like shit? how is samson? i thought you two were best friends! what happened when olivia died?
no one genuinely wants to know if grayson sike is okay.
so when this girl beside me asked if i was okay, i scoffed and i said, "who's asking?" because there was no way she wanted to know if i was okay. was there?
she replied with, "me." and i rolled my eyes. "you know, i'm just trying to show concern here. i've heard the rumors, everyone has. i genuinely want to know if you're okay."
i didn't believe her, but i said, "i'm not okay." because i wasn't, and there was no sense in hiding that. there was no point in pretending that i was when everyone damn sure knew there was no way grayson sike and the others could be okay. she nodded, and she smiled. almost as if she was glad that i told her i wasn't okay. that made me angry.
"how could you be?" she said, offering me another smile. i rolled my eyes. she made a good point, honestly. how could i be okay when one of my best friends died, and the rest of us split wide open in front of each other, no one knowing what to do for the other. it was sad, truly.
"why are you talking to me?" i asked. she frowned.
"am i not supposed to be?"
"stop answering my questions with another question," i complained. she was frustrating me. this conversation frustrated me, and i wanted it to end.
"then answer my questions first," she replied. i smiled a little. just a little.
"i hate this place, you know? everyone here knows what happened to me and the others. everyone watches me walk by them, and they know our story. they don't deserve to know, but they do. i don't like it here, really. i really, really don't like it here," i told her. why i was telling a complete stranger exactly how i felt, i didn't know. maybe it was because i didn't have nichole or samson to tell it to anymore, or maybe it was because talking to a stranger was much easier than talking to someone who is supposed to know everything about you. i didn't know.
