Girl Unknown

Girl Unknown(Mo Word) Girl Unknown

Let’s see, where should I start? I think when and where I met him would be good. It was in German class when I was a senior in High School. He was a junior at the time. His name was Alex, he was an attractive, preppy, jock, (a lacrosse player),but surprisingly not too dumb. No, he was a smart kid, perhaps a slacker sometimes, but what High School kid doesn’t do that from time to time? He also happened to be the son of our school nurse. What I remember most about him was his hair. It was so light blond it was almost white. I always heard rumors that he was albino, but I never confirmed it. I remember our German teacher was crazy and she had us sit in groups she called “families” in class and she would assign who was the husband and wife and then we got to decide who was the baby and who were just other siblings. As it turns out, I was “married” to Alex a few times. I had to sit next to him and he would always say dumb flirty stuff. Then our German Teacher changed our “families”. Alex and I both “remarried” and he sat directly across the room from me doing stupid stuff and trying to sound smart to impress me.

The reality was that even though I didn’t want to admit it, I had feelings for this guy, if you want to call them that in the first place. It was complicated. First of all, I didn’t want to like anyone at the time because I had just been through some dramatic boy stuff as well as dramatic stuff at home. And I didn’t want anything to do those stupid boys who just cause drama. And the last time I liked a guy, I decided that it was just because I was going through rough times and wanted to feel better, so I longed for some comfort. To make things worse I was also mad because he wasn’t my type. He was everything that I would normally rebel against. In fact, we couldn’t have been more opposites of each other. He was a jock, I liked music. He was a republican, I was a hippie. He was outgoing and popular, I was a shy dork. This all frustrated me so much that my feelings for him changed every day. Sometimes I really liked him, sometimes he just pissed me off and I didn’t want anything to do with him, and sometimes I was indifferent. So while I did have feelings for him, I decided that it was best not to act because I didn’t want to lead him on. So after we “divorced” I took to ignoring him.

Since my German teacher was a fun lady, we made cards for everyone in our class on Valentine’s Day, like you would do in kindergarten. Mine from Alex was a love note. With a typo I might add. I could tell that after class he was taking extra time to pack up his things intentionally so I had the chance to stop and talk to him. Instead I stared at him for a second and walked out of the room.

Two days later we had German class again, but it was on a day that we had a single school wide 55 minute lunch period instead of our usual four 25 minute lunches. We had German class right before the long lunch. Class ended and I bolted out of there so I could meet up with my friends and because spending time in than classroom with Alex had gotten to be especially awkward following the note. But a few minutes later I heard his voice calling after me. I kept walking at first until we reached the normally abandoned staircase that I always took to get to my friends. I didn’t want to stop, but my uncontrollable niceness and politeness took over.

“Yeah?” I said as I turned around.

“Well, have you thought about it?” He asked.

“About what?” I responded, trying to delay talking about this uncomfortable subject.

“You know what.”

“Yeah, I do. I just didn’t want to talk about it. This is really hard for me to say.”

“Look, I understand if you want to reject me, just say so and I’ll go. There’s no need to drag it out.”

“It’s not that.” I took a breath and hesitated. “I do have feelings for you, but I can’t really make any sense of them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I literally can’t decide if I really like you, hate you, or don’t care. And I don’t understand why I have feelings for you at all because you’re not my type and I don’t think I’m yours either. And I’ve thought about it and I figured out that I don’t really want a relationship with you , I’m more interested in just fooling around. Secretly, of course.” Then he just stared at me with a weird look. “You know, so that no one will judge me for it.” I continued.

At that moment, I braced myself because I knew that this was the part in the conversation where he would either be really psyched, or his republican ass would call me a slut. He let out a sigh.

“That’s really what you want?” he asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay. That’s pretty cool, you’re a girl that acts like a guy.” I gave him a dirty look.

“Girls are allowed to have sexual feelings too you know, and we deserve not to be called sluts for it, but I know that everyone else will and they’ll talk behind my back.”

“That came out wrong, I’m sorry. But if that’s what you want I’ll do it. What’s your number?”

I gave him a small smile and that was the start of our relationship, if you want to call it that.

He kept his promise. No one knew about our relationship. We had decided to tell our friends about our conversation in the stairway, but we changed the end a bit by saying that it ended with me rejecting him. We met up to make out as much as we could, mostly at school.

One Long lunch, we met up in the stair case by the choir room that no one ever used. He had me pinned against the wall running his hands all over me and kissing me. Our make out session was going normally until his right hand grabbed my left hip.

“Ow!” I screamed. He froze for a second and then pulled back.

“Oh, sorry. What did I do?” he asked.

“Nothing, you just hit a bruise on my hip. No big deal.”
“What did you do?”

“I bumped into a table, that’s all. I went to tart kissing him again, but he pulled away.

“Let me see.” He reached out to grab the waistband of my jeans and pull them down. I didn’t want him too, but there was nothing I could do at that point. He pulled down my jeans so he could just see the elastic waistband on my underwear. This revealed a small, thin Band-Aid and below it a scar. “Why is there a Band-Aid?” he asked. “I thought you said it was a bruise.”

“No I didn’t. I think it was a patch or dry skin that I scratched too much.” I was hoping he would buy it. It was a completely reasonable explanation since it was still February.

“No, I don’t think something like that would hurt that much if you touched it. You screamed pretty loud.”
Then he was silent. He took his thumb and gently stroked the scar below the Band-Aid. Then he raised his thumb and gently stroked over top of the Band-Aid a few times. Then he abruptly stopped at one end, grabbed the edge, and ripped it off in one quick motion as I let out a groan. Under the Band-Aid was a thick scab. He stared at it for a second and then looked up at me. He let go of my jeans and the waist band went back up to its normal place. He took his right hand and rubbed his head and then his face. His silence was killing me.

“Alex, say something.” I pleaded. He didn’t. “What? Do you want me to say something?” Silence. “What do you want me to say? Do you want a confession? Because I’m pretty sure you already know.” At that pinot he stopped looking at me and started staring at his feet. “Ok, fine. “I finally said. “I cut myself sometimes. But it’s not a big deal.” Alex looked back up at me. He grabbed my other hip and pulled the waistband of my jeans down to reveal 2 more scars, which he also rubbed with his thumb.

“How is it not a big deal? This isn’t healthy.” He said.

“I know it’s bad, and I realized that. I’m trying to stop. I just need more time.”

“Who knows about this?”

“No one. And you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“Why not?”

“Because, I don’t need help. I can do it. And I don’t want all the attention from everyone. I don’t need people talking behind my back and I don’t need my parents to send me to a therapist like they did with my sister. I don’t need to cause any more trouble for them.” I said in a frustrated tone. Alex didn’t say anything, he just turned to leave. I grabbed the back of his shirt and stopped him. “I’m serious, please don’t tell anyone. If you do, you realize that it will also blow our secret?”

He signed and looked at me. “Okay,” he said. I won’t if that’s really what you want, but you’ve gotta let me help you.”

“No.” I replied coldly.

“Why not?”

“You’re not supposed to care.” I said. I stormed off leaving him alone and went to find my friends. He didn’t follow me. I spent the rest of the day in a bad mood. That night as I was lying in bed, he texted me.

“Hey. U ok? R U mad at me?”

I replied. “Yeah, I’m fine. And I’m not mad at you. Just mad you found out. I didn’t want you to know.”

“Yeah. I got that part. R U sure yur fine?”

“Yes. Why else would I have said it?”

“Just checking.”

I gave my cell phone a resentful look, turned it off, and went to sleep. I went to school the next day and everything was normal. I didn’t hear anything about my issue the whole day. I found comfort in that fact. In the next few weeks, Lacrosse practice started, so I saw less of Alex. But we had texted and agreed to meet one Saturday at a park.

The first home Lacrosse game was on a Friday after school. Most people were staying to see it, but I walked to my car like usual ready to drive home. I opened the driver side door and lying on the seat was a pamphlet labeled “Teen Issues: Cutting”. I knew immediately that Alex had taken that from his mom’s office and put it in my car on the way to the game. I threw the pamphlet to the floor in front of the passenger’s seat. I drove home like normal. When I got home I threw the Pamphlet into the big trashcan we had outside.
The next evening I went to meet Alex at the park. I had told my parents that I was going to a girlfriend’s house for dinner. We sat down in the grass on top of a small hill. He held my hand and I leaned into him.
Then he said,
“Did you get my present yesterday?”

“That’s hardly a present.” I sighed.

“Why are you upset with me? I was just trying to help.”

“I said I didn’t want your help.”

“Why not? Are you that stubborn?”

“No. I just never wanted you or anyone to know about it. And I didn’t want you to care either. That’s not what this relationship is. We barely talk and we don’t care about each other. That’s what it’s supposed to be; that’s how I like it. ” I said annoyed. Then I lied down and looked up at the clouds.
“Then I really misjudged you. You’re even more immature than I first thought. You can’t even admit that you need help. You just push people out, no one is allowed in. It’s only been two months and I know that I care about you and I thought you would grow to do the same for me. But I guess not.”

“You know what? You don’t understand. And I don’t expect you to. But just imagine that every time you start to get close to someone, they just leave or betray you or phase you out. And then imagine that you have this reputation of being a good girl and you’re not supposed to be doing things like just messing around with guys or cutting yourself. And that your family makes fun of you and calls you emo. You’re not allowed to have feelings because then you’re just being emo. And it makes all the more painful and impossible to tell them that you cut yourself because that just furthers your reputation of being emo and you’re going to be teased some more.” A few tears began to flow from my eyes.

“Is that why you cut yourself?”

“I always do it when I feel really sad and hopeless. The pain distracts me from my emotions.”

“It’s because you keep them bottled up. Maybe you should express them more often.”

“Please,” I said sniffling. “No one wants to hear me complaining and being negative. My parents just tell me to suck it up and I can tell that my friends are tired of hearing about it.”

“If you need someone to talk to every once and a while, I wouldn’t mind.”
He lied down with me and reached over and began to stroke my hair. After that we just stayed there in silence for a while until the sun went down. He walked me to my car and gave me a quick kiss goodnight. I drove home deep in thought. I went to bed that night still deep in thought. I waited until I knew that Alex would be asleep or playing Video Games so he wouldn’t answer his phone. I left him a voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me. I don’t think I can do this anymore. Today was too overwhelming for me. You have to understand that it’s not easy for me to admit my feelings like that. And I can’t sleep because I’m so afraid of letting myself get this close to someone. I just know I can’t handle it. I don’t feel like I’m in and emotionally stable place. It’s too much for me right now. Honestly, before I called you I was trying everything to resist cutting myself. It didn’t work. I think I need as stress free a life as possible right now and you appear to be adding it. I hope you know that it wasn’t your fault. It’s my own issues that are in the way. Maybe I do need help, but I’m not ready to ask for it. I’m sorry. If our relationship can go back to what it was like before you found out about the cutting, I would come back. But I don’t see you doing that. So let’s just forget it because this clearly was a mistake and hopefully we can both move on and you won’t hate me too much.”
I hung up and went to sleep.

I checked my phone right after I got out of bed in the morning and I had a text from him.
“Wutever. Its yor choice. But U Shuld’ve just talked to me in person bcs that was immature. But I will still care about U and worry about U. If u ever feel like cutting again, call me and I’ll help u. I promise Please text me back.”

I responded “Why should I text you or get your help if all you ever do is call me immature?”

“U R being such a dumb bitch right now. Just let me help you.” I threw my phone across the room, creating a new scratch on the outside.

Alex didn’t come to German class on Monday. And I felt guilty knowing that I was the one who hurt him and he couldn’t even tell anyone about it. I saw him later that day in the hallway and I was sure that he had just spent German class sleeping in his mom’s office to avoid me. We made awkward eye contact and kept going on our ways. German class was even more awkward for the next month. I went on ignoring him, but couldn’t help but wonder if he was still devastated over me underneath his happy exterior. And if he still cared about a stupid bitch like me. I felt two inches tall. I was slowly slipping back down my slope down to my emotionally bad place.

About 4 weeks after I broke up with him, I found myself there. I was lying in bed rolling around trying to resist my urges to cut myself. That wasn’t working, so I got up and went to my messy desk. I rummaged around a bit then finally found what I was looking for. I picked it up. At first I just stared at it. Then I fumbled around with it a bit. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I pushed the dial button. It rang and rang. I was scared and about to hang up. Then finally, I heard his voice say “Hello”.