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A Long-lost Feeling of Love

Short story By: Tihomir

This happened to me when I was in seventh grade. It was the first time I ever felt love from and adult, since I was five.

Submitted:Jun 22, 2011    Reads: 266    Comments: 2    Likes: 3   

Is my life really worth anything, I think to myself as my band class is dismissed. Its lunch period, but I'm not hungry. The need of love is too great for me. I couldn't possibly eat anything without breaking down into tears in front of all my friends. They're too nice and compassionate to cry in front of. They'd be on to me about what's wrong all day. Of course, I like that in a friend, which is why I choose my friends carefully, but I just can't handle their compassionateness today. Can I possibly go three more hours in school without crying? I'm already at the verge of tears.
I put my instrument up, and my sheet music. I go into the hall and just sit. Everybody's already gone to lunch and my teacher's in the teacher's lounge. I just sit there and cry. I cry for my mother that I never met. I cry for my sister that's across the state. And I cry for myself. I have nothing left. No love, except from my friends, which I couldn't do without, especially when it's from Kendra and Haley. They're always so open and caring. That's rare in a person. I have all B's in almost all my classes and one F. Everything in my life is terrible.
I got in a huge argument with my foster parents last month over me wanting to move to a new foster home. My foster dad got mad at me and said, "So you just want to move 'cause you can't go to a stupid friend's house." They tell me they love me all the time, but I don't feel their love. If they did love me, I would feel it.
"You know what," my foster mom said, "we don't care. If you want to move, that's fine with me. You know, we feed you. We pick up after you. We care about you. Heck, if it weren't for us, you'd still be in Gibault right now."
"You don't know that," I said, nearly in tears, "someone would've come along and got me."
My foster dad piped up and said sarcastically, "Yeah sure"
Those two simplewords silenced me, "I hate you", I said those three words with all the anger and hatred I could. Because I did hate them now.
That's what happened in the fight. And now I'm cooped up with them. I'm probably gonna end up being with them until I'm eighteen.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming toward the hall. It was obviously a teacher, because not very many students wear high heels. I couldn't let a teacher see me cry, they came closer and closer. I quickly got a book out and covered my face, pretending I was reading it. I tried to keep myself from sobbing. My band teacher walked in. Good, it's just her. She's seen me cry before, and she knows I have a troubled life. She cares about my feelings and listens to me. If only she knew how I felt about her. I want her to adopt me, but that's just a fantasy. I wish I could talk to her more and be with her, especially after my fights with my foster parents. She probably never even thinks about adopting me.
"Hey Tim," she says to me. She looks at me and is apparently able to hear me sob. "I knowthat your grades are fallingand I'm sure you're upset, but you just got to study more. You can put the book down now. You are a straight A student and your grades have been a little down. Is there something you need to let out or talk about"
I finally give in and tell her about the fight. She listens and hears well. I still don't tell her about wanting her to adopt me. I should keep that in the dark for a while. After I tell her everything, she understood my trouble (most of it, at least).
"Tim, just hold on to watcha' got," she says," heck, if your foster parents bother you that bad, I'd just adopt you right now to get your foster parents off your hands, but...it's just such a long process."
"Would you really? I can't take them anymore. They've tooken everything from me, especially the privileges thattheynever gave me. They don't care what happens to me. They were never even proud of me. For example, when I got all A's in class, they said, whoop-de-do. That's what you're supposed to do.You and my friends are all I have left...please," I begged her, bursting into tears. My face feels like a waterfall. Tears stream down my face, hoping that she wasn't kidding.
"We'll see Tim," she says, and even she has tears welling up in her eyes, "I would, without a doubt, adopt you. It's just such a long process. I'll see what I can do. But, know this. I love you and I always will, andyou know what?I'mproud of you, okay." She gets up and leaves the hallway, and I hear her walking away.
Was that a yes or a no? I still felt alone. I still felt that my life wouldn't go anywhere from there, but another thing that I felt, for the very first time since I was five, was love. I still sat there, crouched in a little ball, crying. I cried of pain. I cried of sorrow. I cried an unexplainable cry. But most of all, I cried of joy, because I was actually loved.


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