My life is but an open book. It wasn't a one-sided love, it never was. When I started to like him he already liked me, so it started smoothly. I met him on my French class, I was on the advance course and he was on the beginner's one. French, in my school, was an optional class after school and I took it since I had to stay either way for basketball and soccer pratice, depending on the day. The advance class was on a different day from his but I decided to also get into the beginner's one to reforce my basic knowledge. My teacher had taught me before in junior high so I was well acquainted with him and got on well. I was always his favorite since French was quite easy for me and believe me, on classes where everybody works and you're just lazying around without being told off for it, well you don't really have a reason to nag or get angry.
I got into both courses and enjoyed them, always taking a French book with me to read in the beginner course, the teacher's recommendation. I would sit at the very front right corner and read my book silently while the class went on. At first nobody payed any attention to me since they knew I had no big reason to be there. That is, until he noticed me. He started sitting always near me, to my left or behind me. He would whisper in my ear and then was scolded by the teacher for not paying attention. I miss those times. We started saying that we were husband and wife out of boredom and that was all it took to get us closer. He would visit my class looking for me, cover my eyes and whisper "Who is it?". As if I didn't know, as if I couldn't recognize his voice. My cheeks would go tomato red and he simply laughed. I'd get butterflies in my stomach as soon as I saw him. My eyes always followed him.
The months passed and suddenly he stopped talking to me, he didn't visit me anymore and it felt like those butterflies were slowly suffocating me. I felt hollow. I felt like a sword had been stabbed again and again in my chest and the wound was to deep to close. That was the first time I had ever been in love. The first time I actually felt like I needed someone. Being as stupid as I was, I became depressed. I stopped talking to my friends and said I was too tired everytime they asked if I was alright. And it wasn't a lie, I was tired of feeling like that. Tired of expecting something that was never going to happen. I just didn't know what to do (and I know it's stupid to get depressed over a boy but, as I said, I was stupid). I took a small knife and left a small cut over my left arm, too small to get noticed. I did it time after time until small drops of blood came out. And I was happy, not because of what I was doing but because I felt something even if that something was pain.
Time passed and the cuts didn't grow deeper but they grew in number. I stopped wearing short sleeves but in the rare occasions that I forgot my sweater, nobody noticed the scars. I would wake up and look at myself in the mirror and hate my reflection because of what I had become but I couldn't stop the blade, I coulnd't stop my mind from going crazy. I stopped eating for as long as I could, a single day was more than enough. When I ate I only had a max of 500 calories and if I went over it I would throw up to make up for it. I WAS DESPICABLE. I didn't feel like myself, I was lost inside my own body. I used to laugh so much in junior high and in high school I had almost forgotten the feeling you get when you laugh so hard your stomach hurts.
I was lost.
I wanted someone to find me and tell me I was important but nobody did. My mom noticed I was becoming pale and thinner so she asked me if there was something wrong. I said no. I said no because something wasn't wrong, I was wrong and I knew it. I knew how much I had changed. My best friend isn't in my school, he left to another one so I couldn't talk to him like I normally did. I just felt out of it.
