When will my reflection show...who I am inside?
Today on Life is fucked
“AAHHHHHHHHHHHHH” after she finished screaming Rachelle turned and started the never-ending pacing that had seemed to consume her the last couple of days. He said she could trust him. He said he would change. She didn’t want to be ignored, not that she would go all Fatal Attraction on him, but she hated feeling like she didn’t matter. It was like a scratched record that a hopeless romantic kept putting on the record player, ever hopeful that beautiful music would pour out of the speakers. She threw herself on the bed as hard as she could, and suddenly realized she was crying. Why? She picked up the phone and started dialing Nate’s number. The silence rang into her ears in sync with the sound of her heart pounding. She hung up the phone angrily and brushed the tears away from her eyes. She stared at herself accusingly in the mirror, “you’re the one who made this happen Rachelle. Deal with it. You were jealous, you let it show. Once again you’ve screwed everything up. Way to go.” All the feelings that surrounded her seemed like nothing compared to the hurt look on Nate’s face. She knew that he would get over it, but there was a nagging. A nagging that reminded her that maybe nothing was wrong with the situation, maybe she had just made it up. All she wanted was to hear his laughter again and be wrapped in his arms. But she had screwed that up. It was like her mom said, “Maybe you’re just going to end up alone.”
Nate was different. He didn’t care about what anyone else thought…except for her. And that bugged him. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t be mean to her. He blew out the match he was holding and grinned at his friend Patrick. He pushed all the thoughts of Rachelle’s wounded face out of his mind. Screw her. He just wanted to have some fun.
Isabelle slammed her head on the chair. Crap; That one hurt. She rubbed her new sore and rolled out from under her couch. Don't remember crawling under there she thought. She pulled out her pillow, and felt its stale wetness…last nights sob-fest came crashing back into her mind. Her eyes welled up again; no, no she thought, not again. I. Will. Not. cry. She got up and went to take a quick cold shower, then maybe I can forget it all. As she was towel drying her hair she went to check her voicemail. Jake had left 15 messages. 15. cripes, she must have been asleep for a while. She slumped onto her bed and pushed the "listen to" button.
About 10 minutes later Isabelle was again in tears and still slumped on her bed. Slowly she made the conscious decision to get up. Slipping on her designer flip flops she dragged herself out of the door. May as well find something to do with myself…she started walking slowly towards the direction of Brighton Park. Looking at the ground she started to think about ways to fix her problem. She couldn't go to anyone else about this...nobody would understand. A shrill ringing broke her concentration; she jumped, realizing she had subconsciously strapped on her cell. Checking the ID she saw it was Mary-Anne - not answering this one. Her and Mary-Anne had been going in really weird circles lately, avoiding each other yet acting as if nothing was wrong, she didn't want to get into this right now. Sighing deeply she looked up at the sky; the sun was a golden-orange, perfectly round, there were even white fluffy clouds to add to the picture. Yanking a hair tie from around her wrist she pulled her hair up in a ponytail. A blur flashed before her eyes…she flipped to her left and just made out a smudge of red sweat stained t-shirt. She didn't recognize the body, so she kept on moving.
Nearing the park, she began to slow down, she was afraid of meeting people she knew. Not feeling like conversing much she took a left turn and walked up the sidewalk to the small hill that overlooked the baseball diamond. Seeing some 5 year-olds running around shoeless in the sand she decided to take off her flip flops. Isabelle felt the cool wet grass between her toes and gave a little smile…this was just like the time when they'd camped out in Jake's yard…- shaking her head she heard some rustling ahead of her, shading her eyes against the sun she recognized the Red-T-shirt who not 10 minutes ago had hightailed right out of her neighborhood. Getting closer she recognized the calm-expressioned face smiling at the sun. Isabelle sat close, but not too close, and wrapped her arms around her knees, waiting for him to notice her. Staring at his face, she wondered why she was never able to talk to him. Every conversation with any other guy just rolled off her tongue, but with Him she couldn't even say "hi" without feeling like an idiot. What was it about him…
“AAHHHHHHHHHHHHH” after she finished screaming Rachelle turned and started the never-ending pacing that had seemed to consume her the last couple of days. He said she could trust him. He said he would change. She didn’t want to be ignored, not that she would go all Fatal Attraction on him, but she hated feeling like she didn’t matter. It was like a scratched record that a hopeless romantic kept putting on the record player, ever hopeful that beautiful music would pour out of the speakers. She threw herself on the bed as hard as she could, and suddenly realized she was crying. Why? She picked up the phone and started dialing Nate’s number. The silence rang into her ears in sync with the sound of her heart pounding. She hung up the phone angrily and brushed the tears away from her eyes. She stared at herself accusingly in the mirror, “you’re the one who made this happen Rachelle. Deal with it. You were jealous, you let it show. Once again you’ve screwed everything up. Way to go.” All the feelings that surrounded her seemed like nothing compared to the hurt look on Nate’s face. She knew that he would get over it, but there was a nagging. A nagging that reminded her that maybe nothing was wrong with the situation, maybe she had just made it up. All she wanted was to hear his laughter again and be wrapped in his arms. But she had screwed that up. It was like her mom said, “Maybe you’re just going to end up alone.”
Nate was different. He didn’t care about what anyone else thought…except for her. And that bugged him. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t be mean to her. He blew out the match he was holding and grinned at his friend Patrick. He pushed all the thoughts of Rachelle’s wounded face out of his mind. Screw her. He just wanted to have some fun.
Isabelle slammed her head on the chair. Crap; That one hurt. She rubbed her new sore and rolled out from under her couch. Don't remember crawling under there she thought. She pulled out her pillow, and felt its stale wetness…last nights sob-fest came crashing back into her mind. Her eyes welled up again; no, no she thought, not again. I. Will. Not. cry. She got up and went to take a quick cold shower, then maybe I can forget it all. As she was towel drying her hair she went to check her voicemail. Jake had left 15 messages. 15. cripes, she must have been asleep for a while. She slumped onto her bed and pushed the "listen to" button.
About 10 minutes later Isabelle was again in tears and still slumped on her bed. Slowly she made the conscious decision to get up. Slipping on her designer flip flops she dragged herself out of the door. May as well find something to do with myself…she started walking slowly towards the direction of Brighton Park. Looking at the ground she started to think about ways to fix her problem. She couldn't go to anyone else about this...nobody would understand. A shrill ringing broke her concentration; she jumped, realizing she had subconsciously strapped on her cell. Checking the ID she saw it was Mary-Anne - not answering this one. Her and Mary-Anne had been going in really weird circles lately, avoiding each other yet acting as if nothing was wrong, she didn't want to get into this right now. Sighing deeply she looked up at the sky; the sun was a golden-orange, perfectly round, there were even white fluffy clouds to add to the picture. Yanking a hair tie from around her wrist she pulled her hair up in a ponytail. A blur flashed before her eyes…she flipped to her left and just made out a smudge of red sweat stained t-shirt. She didn't recognize the body, so she kept on moving.
Nearing the park, she began to slow down, she was afraid of meeting people she knew. Not feeling like conversing much she took a left turn and walked up the sidewalk to the small hill that overlooked the baseball diamond. Seeing some 5 year-olds running around shoeless in the sand she decided to take off her flip flops. Isabelle felt the cool wet grass between her toes and gave a little smile…this was just like the time when they'd camped out in Jake's yard…- shaking her head she heard some rustling ahead of her, shading her eyes against the sun she recognized the Red-T-shirt who not 10 minutes ago had hightailed right out of her neighborhood. Getting closer she recognized the calm-expressioned face smiling at the sun. Isabelle sat close, but not too close, and wrapped her arms around her knees, waiting for him to notice her. Staring at his face, she wondered why she was never able to talk to him. Every conversation with any other guy just rolled off her tongue, but with Him she couldn't even say "hi" without feeling like an idiot. What was it about him…