Soft rays of sunlight dance gently across my face, leaving patterns in every direction they move. My bedroom walls remind me of blood-curdling. Days without her by my side are black and white. Dull. I had no friends until she came back into my life. Our time together was magenta. Peaceful. She always knew how to draw me to her, even without meaning to. Chilling. The blue sky that one day when we were nine walking home from school, that was the day I first realized I love her. These same walls where we confessed our love and desires. As I lay here in my bed with sheets she once laid, I feel her presence consume me.
The white stained marble covers every path walked in each direction. Ruptures of laughter come from a blob of wannabe populars
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Ringgg,” the starting bell rang. “Okay well I’m heading to class early because I don’t want to have a crappy seat for the rest of year, sitting next to a cute guy is a plus,” she winked at me as she started walking towards her first period. Before I could even turn to head to my class, I felt myself being shoved forward and catapulting straight into a trashcan. There goes my dignity, Mean Girls style. “Dammit freak, watch where you’re going,” says the douchebag that intentionally assaulted me. I turn to flick off whoever just pushed me, only to see her face. The face that haunts me every time I walk into my room.
Now as we sit on my bed, I found myself constantly looking down at her lips, magenta colored, hanging onto every word and wanting to repeat every syllable she speaks because she made everything sound so beautiful. “You good?” Dylan questioned with a little smirk. “Yeah, I’m just...uh... little tired um... it’s just weird seeing you after years,” I anxiously
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“I think you need to go home, Dylan.” “Ms. Ramirez I’m so sorry I-” “I don’t need fags in my household,” my mom stated with such impassiveness that her monotone voice was frightening. My mom is always happy and bubbly, even when she’s upset or annoyed.
The white fluffy clouds were ones that I’d never forget. Cotton candy white clouds stream by busy going nowhere and everywhere. That’s how I’d like to be one day. Nine-year-old Dylan and I had no words for what we felt. It was just love. The same love a man and woman feel the love we saw on T.V. and in movies. We just wanted to love. We were walking home when I felt Dylan grab my hand and entangle ours together. Sweat built up between our locked hold, but I never felt happier. Dylan walked me up to my front porch and turned to quickly peck me on my cheek as she begun to do more often with our built up confidence. The movement of the curtains worried me. Maybe it’s just my imagination and anxiousness scaring