labyrinthine
Why did he have to pick her?
Why not me?
We were perfect for each other. We had so much chemistry between each other. We were so much alike.
He and she had nothing in common. He was arrogant. He thought the world revolved around him…
And I was the same way.
If he wanted something, he would stop at nothing to get it…just like me.
See?
Like I said before…we are very much alike. The only difference between him and I was that he was a boy, and I was a girl.
We were counterparts…are counterparts.
We are the same.
But unfortunately, he had chosen her…
My own sister…
But I've always thought it was my fault. I had many opportunities to express my feelings for him. To tell him how much and how long I've loved him. How I yearned for him.
I had a crush on him ever since we met when we were only eight years old.
Some days we were best friends. Some days we were enemies.
We would have an on-and-off relationship within our intricate friendship.
Within the ten years that have passed, we would argue constantly.
But now that I am eighteen, I've realized that I actually liked arguing with him, and miss arguing with him.
I liked whenever he got mad at me and our noses would be just inches away from each other as we would bicker. I like, no, love how attractive he is when he's angry, how he's so assertive and in your face when he's being challenged. Any close proximity of him was, and is enough for me.
But ever since he had started going out with my sister, Eleanor, he had completely forgotten about me.
I feel my blood boil furiously when I see the two shamelessly make-out in front of me.
Even though I roll my eyes, laughing and jokingly tell them to get a room, in the inside, I feel completely disgusted with them.
In my head, I always ask myself, "Why did he choose her instead of me?"
I don't understand.
I mean, I'm pretty, right? To me, I'm far more attractive than Eleanor.
People have always called me pretty as I grew up. In high school, so many girls told me that they wished they had a body like mine, envying my curves and flawlessly fair skin. Whenever I knew my sisters and I would be hanging out with him and his brothers, I always tried my best to make myself look absolutely stunning, just to have his gaze rake over me in a double take.
But he never did. He never does.
So I guess it wasn't enough…
I continuously wonder what it would feel like to have his toned arms wrapped around me when I need to be comforted. What it would be like to have him kissing me with nothing but raw passion, devouring my mouth with rushed, needy kisses as I'm flushed into his firm chest.
Being fully lost and mesmerized by his oceanic eyes alone would be a delight.
But since he isn't mine, there's no point in wondering.
He had already made it clear that he was in love with Eleanor Miller.
…I wish he fell in love with me instead.
I wanted to shout, scream at the top of my lungs until they burned I love you to him so badly.
But it was too late.
On the night of our graduation from high school at the after-party, he got down on one knee and proposed to Eleanor in front of everyone and gave her an expensive-looking silver ring. Eleanor's jaw had dropped, a smile breaking out onto her face. He smiled right back up at her.
My heart sank.
"Yes, yes, Alvin Seville!" she had cried happily, as the shiny ring was slipped upon her finger. The two shared a tight embrace and a passionate kiss. A passionate kiss.
A passionate kiss that I only wanted meant for me.
Everyone had clapped and cheered. I felt completely numb.
I immediately left the party and went home. I stumbled quickly into my room and slammed the door behind me. My heels made contact with my mirror after I threw them at my dresser. Shards of glass imploded everywhere onto the floor.
I didn't care. Nothing but rage boiled within my veins.
I plopped myself on my bed and cried into my fluffy pillow, clenching it tightly with my hands. The tears were rolling down my cheeks like raindrops, messing up my mascara. They kept falling down and down.
My voice grew hoarse from so much crying and screaming. My heart ached, excruciatingly so. I angrily grabbed the picture of the soon-to-be-husband and I when we were eight years old and threw it at the wall. It had shattered into pieces.
I could care less.
I hate him.
I hate him.
How could I have ever fallen in love with that jerk?
Why was he the one I ended up falling for?
Why…
"Why?" my voice cracked in a tiny whisper. "Why did you have to fall in love with her…"
Why did I have to fall in love with you?
Yeah, this is in Brittany's point of view (clearly, because it's Alvin/Brittany…sort of). I remember this being very painful for me to write when I was fourteen…and it's painful for me to read in the future because of how awfully written it was, so I'm glad I edited it seven years later.
This…whatever it is was originally titled, You and I, but I decided to change it to Labyrinthine 'cause it just makes more sense to me. Some might think that Brittany's POV of Alvinor is a bit crazy and excessive, but that's what I was going for here. Let me know what you thought of Brittany's thoughts, but only if you want to, though.
~NickiMinajandRihannaFan
Edited on 6/29/2018.