It's Me Again

This story is about a friend who's having some relationship issues but I'm not very good at giving advice. These are letters that I think express what she's going through, some of which I've gone through myself. These are not true stories, however, and should not be taken literally. They're interpretations of what might be happening with her and what happened with me.

Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated! I'm more than happy to keep writing if you want me to.

Chapter 1

September 26

by: Marfabu
It’s me again,

He passed me by in the hallway today and his eyes traveled just a little bit too south to look at breasts that aren't really there and I found myself imagining what it would be like if I had something on me to impress him. Every time I pass the mirror I am reminded that I am nothing and he is something: galaxies and darkened skin with laughter like summer and touches like rain.

I skipped out on gym just for the chance to see him because the black hole in my soul is consuming me and I can't pray it away. I am convinced that it's his fault because he takes the stars from my heart to fill his eyes.

He plays with the feeling of a dropping stomach when his dark gaze meets mine. I am numb when he stands by me in the lunch line and for once in my God damn life it is a type of numb that I want to feel.

I spent years chasing away the feeling of nothing with cuts that meant something in my moments of emptiness. It terrifies me, to say the least, that I should want the emptiness back if it means that I can see him again. He reminds me of the peer pressure that my mom would try to deter by asking me if I would jump off a bridge if the bîtchy girls from middle school asked me to.

For a moment of his attention, I would. For a moment of his endless gaze I would dare to fall into a river of what you call despair and I call passion. I would throw myself into the darkness of my own soul to hear him call my name.

His name is Zeke. Every time he talks to me I become someone new and he tells me that he likes who I’m becoming when we’re alone at lunch in the back corner of a crowded cafeteria that he calls hell and I call heaven. I try hard not to wonder what his touches would feel like if they found their way onto my thighs or, God forbid, if his hand held mine for even a fraction of a second.

I’ve heard my friends tell me that love is like an abyss and emptiness that you couldn’t stomach under any other circumstances. I remember shoving those ideas away because we’re just teenagers and we cannot possibly know what love is.

But then I met him and everything inside of me stopped. I miss him right now and I haven’t been out of school for more than a few meaningless hours, but every moment away from him means more to me than I could have ever imagined.

My only fear is that he doesn’t think of me in the same light that I think of him.

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