“It’s not you; it’s me.” I sat there, half conscious, only hearing the words. What seemed like eternity, I finally looked up at her. “You’re using that cliché as an excuse?” I asked dryly. Jessica stared off in the distance, slightly blushing. Her blonde hair fell softly past her shoulders; her green eyes were distant, and her face had an expression of guilt mixed with boredom. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and stared at me with what seemed like kind eyes. But I could see right through them; they were hallowed and shallow. She swallowed and said carefully, “You’re just not the dating.... um... material.” At that moment I wanted to burst out laughing. I knew the truth; she got bored with me; I already knew that she was looking for a new boyfriend; I already knew that she chose the star quarterback from our school’s football team, but I merely turned away from her and said nothing. She sighed and grabbed her winter coat from the house’s closet. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you around in school still,” she assured me before opening the door to leave. Were those words suppose to give me comfort? She might have well said, “I know I’m dumping you, but you get to see me, you’re ex, around with my new boyfriend at school.” The icy cold winter wind blew in and whipped my body. Snowflakes followed, covering some of the furniture with white specs before melting into water droplets that were soaked into the furniture. The house door closed shut and she was gone. Warmth quickly restored the house as I stood, staring at the door. Minutes passed before I took my first step, than followed by a run up the stairs into my room. I did not cry, mope, or yell. I simply took a picture of me and Jessica which was at my bedside and stared at it. There we were; frozen in time as boyfriend and girlfriend. We were geared up with our winter attire as we skated on the pond. My mom caught the perfect picture; I was looking at her, smiling as I tried to help her balance, she was looking at me, laughing happily. Right after my mom took that picture, we both fell. But I felt no happiness from the photo. Yes, we were frozen in time in this picture, but it doesn’t mean that it has to be perfectly preserved. I carefully tore apart the picture so that I was on one half and Jessica was on the other. I took my half and stuck it in my drawer while I put Jessica’s half in a cardboard box that had already eight half torn pictures; each containing a different girl. I held the cardboard box in my hands, staring down at the half torn pictures of the girls. Burned again, I thought. Nine burns already this year. All of the girls were pretty and popular, but they were also all shallow. I was also popular, known for my smile, my hair, my eyes, basically my looks. But I was also the star point guard for my school’s basketball team and star sprinter for my school’s track team. Girls were one of the natural things that came with my position. I could be one of those guys who could wink at a girl and she’ll skip away, giggling and blushing, but I wasn’t. This year, my junior year, is my first year of dating, and so far, it hasn’t been a good record. When everyone in school hears that Jessica and I broke up, they won’t be surprised. I bet some would be expecting it. I work out most days of the week, I run on week ends, no matter how hot or cold it is, I practice dribbling, shooting, and lay ups every night, I was the leader who pumped my team up for the big meet or game, I was the one who would get the first win or basket, but that never prepared me for girls. First girl that I’ve dated was Amanda. Brunette, outgoing, popular, and a cheerleader. It wasn’t until the second day we were dating that I found out that I was dating Amanda. Apparently she had a “thing” for me. And after awhile, she told everyone we were dating. I don’t remember how long it lasted, but it wasn’t long. As soon as she broke up with me, another girl appeared but it didn’t matter. My “love” life was put on replay for nine times. After just three, I was starting to hate drama. I never actually broke up with any of them, they broke up with me. All of their reasons were the same except they worded it different. “You’re not right for me.” “Right now isn’t a good time for me to be dating.” “I think we’re better as friends.” “Things aren’t working out.” “I’m not good enough for you.” “You deserve better.” After each break up, I never cried or get depressed. I simply shook it off like when my team loses a game or a meet and prepare for the next one. The chilly air seemed to go right through my navy blue sweater and my skin started to form goose bumps. I quickly decided to have some hot chocolate and watch some tv. I carelessly pushed the cardboard box under my bed and headed down into the kitchen were I put a mug filled with water into the microwave. I timed the microwave for thirty seconds and waited. My eyes roamed the kitchen. The white fridge nestled closely against the wall opposite of me. To my right were stoves, which my mom would use almost every afternoon and night for meals. I personally think she’s a clean freak but I can’t really complain as long as she’s making my meals. My eyes slowly lingered on the shining, spotless stove for a while before moving on to my left side. A large, dark, furnished, oak dining table was placed next to a bay window that over looked our yard. A crystal chandelier hung high above the dining table as its light reflected off of the crystals and the table. Three chairs were circled around the table. Outside, tall dark trees stood tall and wide. Thick layers of snow covered their branches and trunks. Large snowflakes constantly fell from the sky, past the window, and onto the ground or trees. The yard was totally white with patches of black from the bushes and trees. I shuddered as I imagined the cold icy wind and snow. The microwave let out a series of beeps, notifying me that it was done. I carefully pulled the mug out and set it on the dining table. Steam rose up from the mug and up to the chandelier before dispersing into the air. I opened up the hot chocolate mix and poured it into the mug. I slowly stirred the mix into the hot water with a spoon and I moved into the living room. A large light green couch sat against the wall facing a large flat screen tv. A round medium sized coffee table sat in front of the couch. I set the hot chocolate down on the coffee table to let it cool and sat down on the couch. I grabbed the remote which was lying on the coffee table and turned on the television. I quickly found a comedy channel and left it on. I took the hot chocolate into my hands and sipped some of it. I checked the clock. 10:48 p.m. It was late, it’s cold, and I needed some comedy because right now, life doesn’t seem all that funny.
Burned (part 1)
March 12, 2011