Fake It

October 23, 2012
By fizzlipop BRONZE, Farmingdale, New York
fizzlipop BRONZE, Farmingdale, New York
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
""You're only as tall as your heart will let you be. And you're only as small as the world will make you seem .”

“Why am I here?” Is the question running through my mind. It’s a familiar question; I must have asked myself the same thing at least a thousand times over the last couple of months.
“What’s on your mind babe?” Is the unwelcome intrusion from one not welcome in my sanctuary. I do my best to keep him from sensing my irritation, as I inwardly wince at the overbearingly familiar pet name.
“Nothing” I reply more brightly. He turns obviously content with my answer as he puts his arm around me. I sigh, wriggle a little under its weight, but end up moving closer towards him. It’s not that I want to it’s the fear of what would happen if I don’t. Not that he would hit me or anything, no, Kwan wasn’t like that. I just can’t stand letting people down; I don’t want to disappoint him. And this charade had already been going on for months. A little while after we started dating…. No when we started dating rather, maybe even before. I never felt that way about Kwan, I could never tell him that either. We met about a month before started going out at a party. It was the first real party I had ever been to. I went with a couple of friends, the girl having it lived right down the street from me. At first the atmosphere had been awkward, the boys on one side, the girls grouped in another disjointed area. But as the night wore on someone found the alcohol….. I’d seen him in school before, he had actually liked one of my friends; she did not return the sentiment. I had a beer or two plus half an energy drink, it was dark, and I was there to have fun. We danced for maybe an hour straight. He wasn’t the only one, neither was he my favorite. I danced with maybe five others, one for nearly an hour and a half. He was my favorite. I never even learned his name… isn’t fate a b****? Nick asked for my number later on, right before left. I gave it to him. I soon forgot about the incident, he hadn’t called or texted me, and school was on vacation. Two days before school started again he texted me, I texted him back, because I had nothing against him and I like being liked by people. We texted a lot from then, but I didn’t really like him……. Why did I ever say yes when he asked me? WHY?
Everyone says we make such a cute couple. Most of my friends, my mother doesn’t like him though. She doesn’t trust boys with “baggy pants”. My dad… well I don’t know what my dad thinks… he’s not the type to say. I don’t think he likes the idea of me with anyone though… Personally I think he thinks Kwan’s a loser. It’s strange actually that I’m dating him. We are so different. I’m at the top of my class, on the high honor roll, a scorer in the 400 meters in track. A nice girl, everyone either thinks I’m sweet, or just doesn’t know who I am. I’m OK with that. He wants to be a rapper, not really ghetto but definitely more ghetto than me. Most kids know him too; he’s not popular but well known for sure. Our relationship was something like a novelty at school. I began hanging out with the more ghetto kids a little more. I kept my old friends though,. Of course I did, I hate disappointing anyone…. I am such a pushover.
“Everything OK baby-girl?” He asks. He must have seen the contemplation on my face. I snap back to reality smiling again as I say,
“Oh yeah, everything’s perfect.”
“Good.” He replies and he leans in to kiss me. I let him his face draws closer and I close my eyes in tense expectation. The kiss is like any other we’ve had. I feel nothing, I participate actively allowing his tongue where it will go, using my own in a way. His style is too rough for me, I like a softer kiss subtle; one that melts in your mouth. His is more like a plow drilling into me. Finally it’s over, inwardly I am relieved, I sigh and allow myself to sink in next to him, resting my head on his shoulders. I don’t know how I live with myself, how I allowed it to get this far…. Or why rather…. I don’t expect an answer, I’ve asked the question too many times to expect one this time, so I accept it. I accept what I have gotten myself into, accept my refusal to hurt, I don’t even know why I accept, why I put up with it… But I do.

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