It's Who I Am

CharmedHPfanatic

I ran away again.

I hate to think of myself as weak.

But I am.

Whenever someone comes close to me, I pull away. I guess it's instinct. My parents were very close to each other and to me when I was younger… but as the years passed, our relationship changed. They both became very busy, leaving me with nannies, giving me toys instead of attention. I pulled away from them.

My friends were never close to me. I hang around with them, but that's all they are. People who I hang out with.

 That's why I don't pull away from my friends. Because we're already distant.

I glance behind me, trying to look casual. She had gone. Rory Gilmore had gone out of my life again.

In all fairness, I only think that. I know it's not true. I know, that it was me… it was me who walked away from her and jumped on a plane to North Carolina, it was me who avoided her the summer before. It was I who pushed her away when she started to know the real me.

My friends call me, breaking me out of my little day dream.

I have this fantasy where Rory doesn't leave me… no, that I never pushed her away. In my fantasy, where Rory tries to make me be myself and not act, I do it. I don't back down, I don't run away.

But that's all its going to be… a fantasy. Rory told me that everything I was clinging to was superficial. That was her ultimatum. She told me to choose between her and her love… or my superficial personality.

You can all guess what I chose.

And I can't say I regret it.

Don't get me wrong, I loved Rory. I really did. Don't think I'm not hurting, because I am. It's tearing me up inside, and I'm grateful she hasn't started dating anyone… if she did, I won't be responsible to what I'd do to the guy.

But that superficial guy, as Rory dubbed me, was me. It was all I knew how to be.

Rory said that it wasn't, that I had shown her that I could be someone better.

Somewhere, deep down I knew it too. But I clung to that personality like a lifeline.

I'm a little scared of her, no I'm a lot scared of her. She has… this hold over me. I'm scared of falling for her, even though I know I already have. I'm sinking deeper and deeper into the feelings I have for her. Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in them. And it scares me.

What would I do? How would I be? With my friends, my mission is simple. Date all girls, make other, lower people feel like crap. Play the suave, cool, can-handle-anything player. With Rory… I'm lost. She might be able to be strong, stand up to everyone, and be herself… but I'm not as strong as she was.

I remember her looking disappointedly at me when I told her that.

I guess we have different priorities.

That sentence echoed over and over in my head, from the minute she uttered it to her next statement.

I gave you everything that I had. I tried to help you. I guess you're a lost cause after all.

She walked away from me only to pause at the door.

I hope you're happy with what you've chosen.

And with that, she had walked out of my life. Not because she wanted to, but because I pushed her away. She deserves better. She wanted what I didn't want to give. What I didn't want to give, because I didn't want to get hurt.

Happy with what I've chosen? No. But it's safer.

 Afraid. Another thing I don't like thinking of myself of.

Weak. Afraid. Pathetic really.

How could I have let myself become that? I walk to my friends, plastering my trademark smirk on. We walk into class together. I take my seat and a few minutes later, she rushes in breathless. The only seat available is the one next to me. She glances at me, but sits down in the seat anyway.

I hope you're happy with what you've chosen.

I stare at my notes, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Happy with what I've chosen. Rory was… is right. She always is.

A lost cause. I probably am.

Rory is a great person. She deserves better than me.

I hope you're happy with what you've chosen.

I look at her, but quickly look away when she turns her head to me.

"Hey Tristan," a girl whose name I can't remember smiles at me seductively.

I glance at Rory, and see her looking pained, trying to read her notes. Do I want to be a lost cause? Do I really like being weak?

No. I don't.

"Whatever it is, I'm not interested," I reply.

Rory looks questioningly at me, but when I look back, she turns back to her notes.

The teacher enters. I surprise everyone by answering correctly in class, giving real answers instead of the smart-ass remarks I usually give.

At the end of the class, I hold Rory back. "I don't want to be a lost cause. I don't like running away."