Vinyl Records:
Collector.
"Oh, I remember. Tell me what happened to you next." Abigail said, twirling her hair round her fingers. She looked innocent, clueless. Not at all how I see myself today. It's good to keep your childhood. I wish I did. But I didn't. And look at me now.
"I kept thinking it was just another day. Another day at my school, being surrounded by people who didn't even know me. Nor gave me the chance to." I paused and inhaled the smoke. I puffed it out and moved around, as to keep my mind in check.
"The class started. I remember how each of you looked at the teacher. Paid attention. I remember playing with the hem of my skirt. Why doesn't anybody want to be my friend? Is it because of my father's age?. The lesson started. The teacher's blond hair whipped around with every move she made. You all stood silent. I was playing with my hands, while trying to keep the smiles I had left in constant movement. I pulled at my long hair and annoyed myself with thoughts of how models look like, how you all looked like, how I was supposed to look." I said while looking elsewhere. This constant soul-bearing process was destroying me, in and out. With shaky hands, I crushed the remains of my once perfectly long cigarette. I grabbed another and put it in my mouth. As I was lightening it, I was thinking about what to say next. I didn't even know how to continue my story. I felt like dropping to the ground and screaming out loud. I had nobody to love me, like my mind and soul needed.
Abigail stood there patient. She looked elsewhere as well. At the park just across the street, I guess. She knew how this affected me. She knew I didn't like to open up, to be vulnerable. She didn't push me. Sure, a question was asked here and there, only to portray my story better. My story is real, and I, as a person, am real. Who I am and where I live are things I'd rather not answer. All you need to know is that I currently live with my mother and father, they're getting divorced and I'm there to pick up all the pieces left. Not something healthy to do, but it's not like they're trying too hard to hide anything. That's why, right now, I'm sitting outside, at 4 PM, telling Abigail, my former best friend, how my life really went like all these years.
Not to stretch this or anything, but I'll get to the "former" thing later. Right now, you all need an introduction to my early life. You need to understand how my life started. All I'm really asking you, is to give me a chance.
"Suddenly, the door opened, and in came a boy. He wasn't anything special, blond and blue eyes, rather skinny, but still had to develop a sense of self and style. So, as you can probably imagine, I kept dreaming about Brad Pitt, or some famous actor. I had other things to be worried about, like my perfect school situation."
Flashback
"Class, this is Jack. He came here from another school, and will be in our class for the rest of the year. And after that, I hope." Our teacher said.
"I distinctively remember his smile that day. Shy one, but I could see there was something in him that wanted to come out, something hiding and lurking behind the school uniform. I knew pretty well, I was like that too. Yet no one knew. His blue eyes were like the sky. The way he walked to his bench, the last one at that, was very shy. He was a gentle boy, something new to this class, God knows how much we needed that. I was intrigued, but not very determined. He was like a sky that wasn't covered in clouds entirely, but it wasn't clear either. Like you somehow know that there's going to be a storm coming." At this point, we were sitting at a table, at the local Starbucks. I looked at the people around. Laughing, joking, lovers and families sitting together. And here I was, opening up, and no one heard me.
Abigail was rapidly scribbling in the small notebook I gave her. I could tell she'd make it something. At least make me believe I didn't waste all my innocence on nothing.
"Let's skip to the seventh grade." I told her nervously.
Abigail's eyes widened and she asked me "Are you sure? It's a pretty big gap. At least tell me how you transformed in those years."
As she was searching through her bag, I looked down and thought these exact words
Do you even think about me? Do you even remember me? Us? These were sad thoughts. But I kept thinking them, over and over. My frown soon faked itself into a strange grin by the time Abigail finished searching.
She needn't see me this way. Not now at least, when we've got so much to go.
"I kept thinking it was just another day. Another day at my school, being surrounded by people who didn't even know me. Nor gave me the chance to." I paused and inhaled the smoke. I puffed it out and moved around, as to keep my mind in check.
"The class started. I remember how each of you looked at the teacher. Paid attention. I remember playing with the hem of my skirt. Why doesn't anybody want to be my friend? Is it because of my father's age?. The lesson started. The teacher's blond hair whipped around with every move she made. You all stood silent. I was playing with my hands, while trying to keep the smiles I had left in constant movement. I pulled at my long hair and annoyed myself with thoughts of how models look like, how you all looked like, how I was supposed to look." I said while looking elsewhere. This constant soul-bearing process was destroying me, in and out. With shaky hands, I crushed the remains of my once perfectly long cigarette. I grabbed another and put it in my mouth. As I was lightening it, I was thinking about what to say next. I didn't even know how to continue my story. I felt like dropping to the ground and screaming out loud. I had nobody to love me, like my mind and soul needed.
Abigail stood there patient. She looked elsewhere as well. At the park just across the street, I guess. She knew how this affected me. She knew I didn't like to open up, to be vulnerable. She didn't push me. Sure, a question was asked here and there, only to portray my story better. My story is real, and I, as a person, am real. Who I am and where I live are things I'd rather not answer. All you need to know is that I currently live with my mother and father, they're getting divorced and I'm there to pick up all the pieces left. Not something healthy to do, but it's not like they're trying too hard to hide anything. That's why, right now, I'm sitting outside, at 4 PM, telling Abigail, my former best friend, how my life really went like all these years.
Not to stretch this or anything, but I'll get to the "former" thing later. Right now, you all need an introduction to my early life. You need to understand how my life started. All I'm really asking you, is to give me a chance.
"Suddenly, the door opened, and in came a boy. He wasn't anything special, blond and blue eyes, rather skinny, but still had to develop a sense of self and style. So, as you can probably imagine, I kept dreaming about Brad Pitt, or some famous actor. I had other things to be worried about, like my perfect school situation."
Flashback
"Class, this is Jack. He came here from another school, and will be in our class for the rest of the year. And after that, I hope." Our teacher said.
"I distinctively remember his smile that day. Shy one, but I could see there was something in him that wanted to come out, something hiding and lurking behind the school uniform. I knew pretty well, I was like that too. Yet no one knew. His blue eyes were like the sky. The way he walked to his bench, the last one at that, was very shy. He was a gentle boy, something new to this class, God knows how much we needed that. I was intrigued, but not very determined. He was like a sky that wasn't covered in clouds entirely, but it wasn't clear either. Like you somehow know that there's going to be a storm coming." At this point, we were sitting at a table, at the local Starbucks. I looked at the people around. Laughing, joking, lovers and families sitting together. And here I was, opening up, and no one heard me.
Abigail was rapidly scribbling in the small notebook I gave her. I could tell she'd make it something. At least make me believe I didn't waste all my innocence on nothing.
"Let's skip to the seventh grade." I told her nervously.
Abigail's eyes widened and she asked me "Are you sure? It's a pretty big gap. At least tell me how you transformed in those years."
As she was searching through her bag, I looked down and thought these exact words
Do you even think about me? Do you even remember me? Us? These were sad thoughts. But I kept thinking them, over and over. My frown soon faked itself into a strange grin by the time Abigail finished searching.
She needn't see me this way. Not now at least, when we've got so much to go.
♠ ♠ ♠
"I was spinning free, with a little sweet and simple numbing me."- Jimmy Eat World