Where does one begin a story of a beginning? Does this story start from the first conversation or the reason before the first conversation? Does it start at the feelings, the racing heart and the love that exploded from feelings long buried? Really…the beginning has been decided…
I suffer in life, and I will suffer in death. I am a simply tortured soul always on the trek is recover my second half. It is said, in Greek Mythology, that humans had four arms and legs, but Zeus, fearing their power, split them in half, cursing them to forever walk alone, trying to find the other part of their soul. Cursing them with loneliness, and other the presence of their other half can fix their deep sorrow. As the world, along with it the human race, grew older, it became harder and harder for the hearts of the beings to find their other half, so they were subject to crippling depression when they believed they had finally beaten the curse, but alas, it was not so.
I am not Juliet looking for my Romeo. I am the tortured soul of another being cursed to be heart-broken until I find my other half, but who is he? Where is he? Why won’t he come to me? My insides scream out for him, crying for him to end my pain, to make it all go away, because who would want to consistently live in pain, despair and loneliness?
Let the real story begin here….
She scrolled through her new feed on Facebook, looking at all her friends having the time of their lives. She sat on her bed, simply wishing she could do the same as them, but knowing full well she wasn’t the type to sit and drink with the “SwagFags”. That was never her cup of tea, even when she was her old self. She was a new invented person, a girl of an imagination of a boy that tried to stuff her into a tiny box, a controlled box. The boy had tried to crush her lungs, crush her spirit, crush who she really was. It was box, that he used to and made smaller with argument, ever word.
After refreshing the page, she saw another boys name flash across the screen, and her heart thundered, a smile creeping on her face. She clicked his name and added him as a friend. Seconds later he accepted and IMed her, and thus begins the true story.
They talked for hours, until she had to get off. He gave her his number and they talked more until she finally fell asleep. Once it was found out that they were speaking, rumors appeared about the boy; he was player, he did drugs, he only wanted in her pants. Her depression started to creep back as the rumors grew worse and more frequent. The girl and boy began argue about it, and finally, the girl gave up. She walked into the boys last class and they spoke face to face about.
“You believe them.” He said simply.
Smacking her hands on the table, she looked into his eyes. He looked back, anger flaring in his eyes. “If I fucking believed them, I wouldn’t be fucking stand here, now would I?” She nearly shouted. Drawing her hands back she watched him. He shrugged.
“I’m sick of everyone. I hate this place.”
“And you think I’m not?” was her answer. He looked at her before she walked away. She thinks about him all the time, her mind rushing with thoughts of touching his skin, just letting her fingers trail over his stomach, under the waist band of his pants. She whole body shivers with the thought of what could happen between them; the simple meeting of bodies under the stars, the feeling of feeling him touch her skin, grabbing her hips and kissing her passionately on the lips. She thought about how he took her breath away with a kiss. How she longed for that reaction to come from her body! And now….how she always longed for him; in various ways, each being a little naughtier than the last…
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