Teach Me How to Read These Broken Lines

I woke up with my alarm going off, and my mom knocking on my door. I sighed and stood up.

"I'm not going to school today." I said as I opened the door.
"Why? Are you sick?" My mom asked.
"No. Just... nothing. I don't feel like going to school. And I'm tired." I replied in a very lazy manner. I barely opened my mouth. It seemed like opening my mouth and talking properly requires a lot of strength and energy. It tires me, which is really weird.

"Okay, then. Tell me when you need something, okay? Go eat breakfast if you want." My mom said as she kissed my forehead. Then she said something that really sent me off guard.

"I know something's wrong, Jace. You just don't wanna tell me. I respect that. But if you need someone to talk to, I'm right downstairs." Mom blurted out and walked away. I stood there by the door frame, staring at this table with white daisies on a vase.
"Thanks..." I whispered to myself. I closed the door and went back to my bed.

I can't help but remember what happened last night. I lost my one and only chance. And I feel like shit.

I lay down on my bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about how I spent my time two nights ago, converting stuff, transferring some file, testing this and that, writing the song titles. Everything. Just for him. And then I finished it, feeling proud of myself. I felt like this was my biggest accomplishment in life, and I'm holding it against my palm. I felt like Charlie from Perks of Being a Wallflower. I felt amazing when I successfully finished it. I hoped that these songs would be enough.

I thought to myself that all these feelings, all the memories that were made in these songs. Not to sound cliché but, I really felt the same way as Charlie did. And i thought about how I loved these songs. About how maybe, just maybe, in the future, we might share the same opinions and experiences upon hearing these songs. About how we could sing these songs together, not giving a fuck about how our voices might sound.

But I wasn't able to give it. I wasn't able to give the stupid mixtape. It sounds so shallow, but for me, it meant the world. It meant something.

I don't even know why I made him a mix, which is plain stupid. But since giving boys your number or your e-mail address and all that bullshit seems a bit overrated for me, I gave him a mixtape. A mix with songs I think he'd either appreciate or not. But I didn't care. I just wanted him to listen to every word sung in every song, let him know that "Hey, this is how I feel," And everything would be okay. But it didn't happen.

And I have to live with the constant pain of knowing that I could produce a thousand mixtapes for him, but I could never give it to him. What an irony. It's like telling this person that you love him or her, but he can't hear you because he has headphones on. Unless you tell him to take it off.

Don't get me wrong, but I learned a lot about this event. May it be wrong or right, at least I learned something. It made me realize that not everything is not like the movies, which is true. I know this sounds cliché and all, but once you go through it, you would conclude the same thing in your mind, and you're going to tell yourself that, hey, maybe this is not the time. That maybe life decided to be a lot suckier than ever. That maybe after being kicked around and realizing that half of the time you liked someone, only depended on false hopes, you decide to eventually stop and think about the things you should've done. Think about all the wrong decisions you should've chosen, because bad decisions make up for the good memories, right?

I stood up, grabbed the mix and played it once again. This is going to be the last.