Have you ever felt like you deserved a thank you?
Or an apology?
Or just anything that could explain what happened?
Because I have.
There was a boy who came and sat alone everyday at lunch. I saw it and I thought "That is not right. He must come sit with us!"
Then, hell broke out between her and I... It was fixed, but honestly it wasn't. I can't sit at my table anymore because I reached out to that green eyed-blonde haired kid... I sat right next to him and I began to care about him. He met my dad. I wanted it to go somewhere.
Little did I know what his one-track mind wanted.
Little was I able to comprehend how small he saw me along the long list of girls wearing my shoes.
This is all he does, this is what they warned me of.
He's the reason I sneak my food into these walls covered in books and constant shushing.
Because he sits at the table I invited him to.
He made me feel ignorant and self-centered when really I was made his pawn.
He wanted me because he has had everyone else and couldn't have someone walking the halls who wasn't on that list of his.
He sits at my table. He sits with my friends.
But I can't stand to make eye contact with him. I'm still trying to convince him I'm over what has happened.
It's as if I'm trying to survive in this agonizing pit of never-ending drama, the perpetual unraveling of lies, actions that are caught before they are over, apologies that are screamed because they are full of remorse they were caught.
...
He sits at my table, right where he used to hold my hand while sneaking another in the chair beside him.
He sits at my table, and he talks to all my friends.
And he hurts me daily without any remorse, but every intent.