Summer days, summer nights, lagging on, a snail gliding it's way across the world. No speed, just slow, continuous time. The outdoors were a stranger to me now, and the cage of my bedroom was my tranquility among the torment. Many childhood nightmares consisted of monsters under the bed, but that's where I found my slightest light in the darkness.
My head sunk into the fluffy goodness I called my bed as I stared at the ceiling above, my eyes blinking away the tears *cough* sweat that welled up in my eyes. "01:27 AM" the digital clock beside me read, as I blankly stared at the dark walls...reminiscing. Contemplating. Berating myself. My breath came out in huffed puffs as I tried to shut my eyes and fall into a deep slumber, but all in haste.
Eyes open. Shut. Open. Shut. And open again.
A long period of time had passed, I felt isolated, alone. My ears were deafened by the silence that encompassed me. The dark walls of my bedroom had seemed to inch closer every day, trapping my damaged soul inside. It was after he left that this disease of despondency began to rot away at me, from when I began to feel like out of the billions of people who live on this planet, not a single soul had a care for me.
My "friends" had cast me aside, without reason or justification. One minute we were laughing joyfully and the next, not a word would be spoken in my direction. A silent gaze of nothingness. For weeks my head had echoed with potential reasons; rumors, lies, jealousy... or maybe I was no longer needed. I had devoted my life to the happiness of my friends, cheering them up when they were down and giving them reason to keep fighting, or so I thought... Yet now I was nothing to them, a used item that could be thrown away beyond a shadow of a doubt, a piece of rubbish.
With him gone, I could feel as if I'd lost everyone I could rely upon, anyone I could trust. I'd lost all of me.
Words. Words are used to define a person by what they did, who they were, and how they changed lives. Picturesque details that weave into vivid expressions can illustrate a picture of those we remember. We use words to create a story; to create a journey into one's life. This is how we define our memories of those we miss. As I pondered on about what I had - and what I could've had - I finally felt myself drift into an uncomfortable sleep.
I woke up with a jolt as I heard my mother shouting from downstairs to wake up. "9:13 AM" the clock shown. Fuck. I was late again.
"Who the hell invented school on Monday?" I muttered as I reluctantly swung my legs around my bed, my bare feet flinching against the cold floor. Grabbing the first piece of fabric within my reach, I hurriedly stripped off my pajamas and pulled on a baggy white shirt and faded blue jeans. I haphazardly swept my brown hair into what seemed to look like a hairstyle - or a nest, and quickly smeared on a coat of rouge balm. Brushing on a coat of mascara, poking the wand in my eye in the process, my eyelashes clumping stiffly against my eyelids - I jumped in front of my mirror to check if I passed for a human being.
I grimaced as I looked at my tired, pallid face. My lovely tan had washed away, leaving the remnants of a pale, frigid girl. My mousy hair and makeup a mess, I didn't look like the clean and 'perfect' girl I am--was. I sighed as I traveled my eyes down the mirror and noticed the white shirt I donned and a wave of nostalgia hit me. It was his shirt. The one I'd stolen from his locker because he'd acted like a jerk and spilled orange juice on my top. Orange juice? I wracked my brain. He didn't even like orange juice - why orange juice?!
I stopped myself. Was I really thinking about his aversion to ORANGE JUICE after all these months? Shrugging, I tried to focus on fixing my disastrous makeup but my focus drifted back on the shirt I wore. I--
A gasp erupted from my lips as the words came out, a strangled mess. The words--the truth I'd concealed for so long, never admitted to anyone, not even myself.
"I miss Ethan." I told my reflection and I could feel my eyes burn as I glared at myself.
Ethan.
Who was he? Where did he come from? No one knew. Ethan was the guy with those adorable brown curls. But then, a lot of people had brown hair. But then, not all of them were named Ethan. Oh wait, he was the guy with the weird habit of constantly pinching his ear. Or was it the nose? Nope, pretty sure he was the same guy.
Gosh, it's hard to remember Ethan the way he was before....before all of this happened..
My eyes bore into the shirt, but my mind drifted back to the memories I cherish - the better days.
...He'd thought it'd be funny to bring me to some random party and vanish off into the thick of the dance floor. I remember finding him and grabbing him by the collar to the very middle. Then, I beat him in a dance off. The night dazzled by the colorful lights that boogied with the movement of the floor. The energy was high, ecstatic, and full of life as we danced. Ethan liked to think he had the moves, but really, he danced on that floor like a malfunctioning robot that mistakenly took hot sauce in the eye.
What a guy. I miss him so much.
Even when you're at your worst, a friend really knows how to make your day. A friend will always be there to make life better. When I had to attend that high-end party, he gave me Emma's Louis Vuitton heels. I...way out of my budget. I tried to convince him to take something. He didn't want anything in return. I tried to give him some of my money from my limited allowance, food, a bikini....He said our friendship was worth a lot more.
...But he liked the bikini.
It hurts. Not seeing him every day. And I hate to admit it but I could feel myself forgetting how he was..how he looked when I first met him. It's been only a few months since he left, but the Ethan who left wasn't the Ethan I knew, or didn't want to know.
But that doesn't explain what went down that day. It's like a shadow that never leaves you, that guilt follows you to the end of time. It haunts you, creeping at you when you sleep and defiling dreams of hope. When you know someone, know their vulnerabilities, know that you can use them...it gets to you. Greed is insatiable. I never really wanted to hurt him. I never meant to lie to Ethan, never meant to do it...
Okay, I'm not crying, there's something in my eye.
He never really understood why the other guys envied him, and why every girl (sans me, duh!) would swoon over his mopey brown haired self as he walked through the corridor, listening to Taylor Swift (Oh, I got him obsessed with Queen Tay...oops) through his headphones.
So oblivious.
...Valentines Day, I knew I had to set him up with someone for once. I told him there was a surprise waiting at school cafeteria and that he should hurry. Imagine the look on his face when he popped into the cafe to see all his dates waiting for him. Poor guy never made it back home that night.
A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I let my mind wander...
There's nothing like a guy who just knows how to make you laugh. An artist, he was. Oh geez, those paintings! He'd told me that he was working on a gallery a few days before my birthday. You'd think that it would be a simple, thoughtful gift. This guy spent 3 days, plus 2 after my birthday, to create a gallery full of fake bikini-clad portraits of me! Yep. The first portrait I saw was me riding a horse in a blue two piece...in the snow, taking on battle against the dawn. It was a pretty big gallery too. He wasn't the best artist, thank god, he told me the paintings could sell for a lot of money. I didn't sell them (though I desperately needed to, I was always broke), instead I left them as my private collection.
Wow, I need to remember where the heck I kept those horrendous caricature--masterpieces.
I couldn't spend all day thinking about him. I shrieked as I looked at the time. 'Late' was kind of an understatement right now. Snapping myself back to reality, I quickly finger-comb through my hair just as my bedroom door opens slightly.
"Alise, honey, are you ready?" Mom peeks in through my half open door. "Ethan's already here to pick you up."
I freeze.
What the fuck?
....Ethan?
