Sara's Diary

October 3rd

Dear Diary,

I'm bitter.

Like a bowl of over ripe lemons. Getting sourer by the day. Hour. Minute. Brewing in my own acidity. Waiting to be squeezed.

Why were Wednesdays so uninspiring.

I have been in search of a muse all day.

Scratch that. All week.

And the week before that.

And before that.

And so on since I found out about the coursework spec.

Poems translated into art. The world was brimming with them yet I couldn't even find one insightful enough to paint about.

I blame him. Mostly. For fogging up my mind.

Fucking it up. Fucking her.

That's what I heard anyway. Amanda and you. Together.

The news spread like an uncontrollable wild fire.

Amanda told her friend.

Who told a friend.

Who told a group chat. That Monday was truly dismal.

Watching you two walk hand in hand as if you were in love - did you even like her. Or the idea. Of Amanda.

Soft. Beautiful. Feminine.

The new boy and Amanda. Power couple. Perfect match. The footballer and the popular girl.

Cliché much.

Did you even notice that I switched seats?

Hearing you and Amanda kiss in Fine Art. In front of me. I never dared look up. I couldn't stomach it. The blow. Everyday before Ms. Carr started her lessons.

One day I could feel your eyes boring into me. After your make out session. Why?

Was you making it too obvious. That you weren't interested in me. And more in Amanda.

Soft. Beautiful. Feminine.

I sat across from Oli. In school he was lanky Oli. Quiet Oli with intense blue eyes magnified by his glasses.

But Oli glo'd up. Oli went to the gym. Wore a curly fade. Smoked weed on the down low.

Oli made me laugh. Brightened my day. Complimented my sketches. My beauty. Stealing a couple of glances from you.

You didn't catch the hint. Me not looking at you anymore. Talking to you anymore. Sitting near you anymore.

After class you grabbed my forearm and pulled me aside. Asked if I was still going to your football game tonight. I frowned. Scanning your hazel eyes. Confused by the question. Annoyed at myself that I still reacted to your touch.

You shrugged and said that everyone was going.

Was it because Amanda was off ill today that you felt bold.

Valour in your touch. The audacity to look at me that way.

Why did you have to look at me that way?

So I stood in the cold. Wind whipping my hair. Hands shoved in my pockets with Alicia.

Bitter.

Pissed that one look could lead me here. On autopilot.

I watched you dart around the pitch. Thigh muscles flexing. Grief in your face when the other team scored.

Elated when you scored two more. The captain of your team. Everyone chanted your name.

I joked that you must be good at football. You were more than that and you knew it.

Modesty doesn't suit you.

Word spread of a victory party. Alicia was going, planning her outfit in advance.

I feigned sickness. A sudden migraine. And excused myself from the game before the pitch emptied.

In the car park I got to my car door before I heard my song. Sara. Sara.

Your cheeks were still red from the game. Mousy brown hair wet with perspiration. Wearing that single dimple smile.

Excitement radiated off you like a gleeful child high on E numbers. Asking where I was going and inviting me to the victory party.

I declined.

Turning my back to you. Reaching for the handle on the door.

You no longer radiated warmth but cool hostility. Interrogating my change in behaviour.

Why I was cosying up to Oli.

I scoffed, realising the meaning behind your words. Querying why it mattered to you.

You stood silent for a second too long. Feeling the actual build up of tension in my forehead, I turned for a second time for my car. Then you acted.

On an impulse.

Warm hands on either side of my face. Pink lips parting mine. Momentary sweetness.

I froze dropping my keys. Clutching your jersey material. Involuntarily pulling you closer. Pressing your body against mine. You pulled back.

Eyes examining mine. Brows furrowed. Face perplexed to your own actions. You went to kiss me again. Then I acted. With sense this time.

Letting go of your damp jersey. Pushing you away. Mumbling something under my breath that wasn't quite coherent. Finding my keys. You sang my song again. Sara. Sara. Ignoring, I started the engine.

SARA.

Why did you feel as if it was okay.

SARA;

gear in first.

SARA.

Okay, to have your cake and eat it.

Sara