Who We Are 1/?
I don't think I can remember a time when I didn't love him. To have this strange twisting ache in your chest for all of your life is a bit bizarre, isn't it? It's been resident in me for so long that I pretty much can't imagine my emotions without it. Almost like a birthmark that will never go away, as much as you try to ignore it. It isn't necessarily a bad thing, but mroe of a confusing way: it's both marking a spot in your feelings, as well as blasting it full of emptiness. Just wondering life without it there is mind-boggling. What would fill that hole up? But what hole is there to fill when it already makes you feel empty at times? But then again, love isn't supposed to be bad or weak or empty. So maybe the ache thing is just sadness. Here I go rambling again; it always leads back to him. I'll just chalk it up to bad habit. All of it. Including my obsessive desire to want to kiss his him senseless anytime I see him.
Which is why I am eating anything I can find right now. Food is a good distraction. In fact, freshmen year, I gained all of those 15 pounds I was supposed to. He tells me all the time, "Boys like curvy girls." Unfornately, boys don't like me much in that "romantical sense" or that "Damn, she's hot." Nope, I'm just Hailey James- that plain faced girl next door and loyal sidekick of Lucas Scott, basketball player extradionare. And a lady's man. In nicer terms, he's what we college kids call a player.
He's saying something now about some girl, but in my search for food to distract me from his lips, I've blocked his words out. He notices when I don't respond and without a word, hands over a chocolate brownie. See? This is why I love him.
She has that expression on her face again. That one when she actually is listening to me, but is thinking about something else. That something else is usually food. I hand over half of my brownie and she graces me with an unusually bright smile. The look of happiness throws me for a moment as I watch her joyfully devour the chocolate dessert. When she catches me looking, she pauses and glances at me questionably, with a scatter of crumbs around her mouth, but just as I'm about to reach out to brush them off, a shrill sound bounces between us. Whoever it is, she isn't incredibly familiar with; she mostly is handing him/her small talk. I have this tendency to listen intently to her phone conversations (well, her side anyways). I'm not exactly sure the reason, but in some indirect way, it keeps me clued in on what's going on her in her life. As much as I'd like to think I know everything about what's going on with Haley, I get this inclination she keeps a good amount from me. I haven't got much room to talk, but it still leaves me curious and a tiny bit hurt.
She's done talking now and as I'm about to open my mouth to ask the caller identity, she shrugs her shoulders and says it's something to do with the show. In the past years, Haley's gotten involved with the campus talent show. It's an annual event and one of the biggest ones run by students. As much as I bother her to actually perform, she's always been shy about her talent, so she's become a crucial backstage coordinator. She seems to enjoy the time spent on it and told me once, "You have basketball; I want to be good at something too." And I guess this is it. The secret is, there is this miscroscopic fear that she'll drift away into this new group of friends and forget about me. Of course, this thought makes me a hypocrite. She's accused me enough times of not needing her anymore with this so- called popularity I've received from basketball. But she supports me. Always. Even if that invovles eating a dozen brownies in her attempt to pay attention.
I don't think I can remember a time when I didn't love him. To have this strange twisting ache in your chest for all of your life is a bit bizarre, isn't it? It's been resident in me for so long that I pretty much can't imagine my emotions without it. Almost like a birthmark that will never go away, as much as you try to ignore it. It isn't necessarily a bad thing, but mroe of a confusing way: it's both marking a spot in your feelings, as well as blasting it full of emptiness. Just wondering life without it there is mind-boggling. What would fill that hole up? But what hole is there to fill when it already makes you feel empty at times? But then again, love isn't supposed to be bad or weak or empty. So maybe the ache thing is just sadness. Here I go rambling again; it always leads back to him. I'll just chalk it up to bad habit. All of it. Including my obsessive desire to want to kiss his him senseless anytime I see him.
Which is why I am eating anything I can find right now. Food is a good distraction. In fact, freshmen year, I gained all of those 15 pounds I was supposed to. He tells me all the time, "Boys like curvy girls." Unfornately, boys don't like me much in that "romantical sense" or that "Damn, she's hot." Nope, I'm just Hailey James- that plain faced girl next door and loyal sidekick of Lucas Scott, basketball player extradionare. And a lady's man. In nicer terms, he's what we college kids call a player.
He's saying something now about some girl, but in my search for food to distract me from his lips, I've blocked his words out. He notices when I don't respond and without a word, hands over a chocolate brownie. See? This is why I love him.
She has that expression on her face again. That one when she actually is listening to me, but is thinking about something else. That something else is usually food. I hand over half of my brownie and she graces me with an unusually bright smile. The look of happiness throws me for a moment as I watch her joyfully devour the chocolate dessert. When she catches me looking, she pauses and glances at me questionably, with a scatter of crumbs around her mouth, but just as I'm about to reach out to brush them off, a shrill sound bounces between us. Whoever it is, she isn't incredibly familiar with; she mostly is handing him/her small talk. I have this tendency to listen intently to her phone conversations (well, her side anyways). I'm not exactly sure the reason, but in some indirect way, it keeps me clued in on what's going on her in her life. As much as I'd like to think I know everything about what's going on with Haley, I get this inclination she keeps a good amount from me. I haven't got much room to talk, but it still leaves me curious and a tiny bit hurt.
She's done talking now and as I'm about to open my mouth to ask the caller identity, she shrugs her shoulders and says it's something to do with the show. In the past years, Haley's gotten involved with the campus talent show. It's an annual event and one of the biggest ones run by students. As much as I bother her to actually perform, she's always been shy about her talent, so she's become a crucial backstage coordinator. She seems to enjoy the time spent on it and told me once, "You have basketball; I want to be good at something too." And I guess this is it. The secret is, there is this miscroscopic fear that she'll drift away into this new group of friends and forget about me. Of course, this thought makes me a hypocrite. She's accused me enough times of not needing her anymore with this so- called popularity I've received from basketball. But she supports me. Always. Even if that invovles eating a dozen brownies in her attempt to pay attention.