Becoming Jasmine Star - Chapter 10

I’m drained, bored, and hate everything.

I hate myself, this house, my Aunt, my parents, my sister, and… myself.

“Why?” you may ask… I don’t exactly know.

You know those times when you feel stuffy inside with a flurry of over-complicated emotions and just want too lay in bed,not moving for days?

That’s what I feel like.

I don’t know why I feel so hateful, and that makes me feel so guilty to everyone who doesn’t even know they’re being hated right now.

Is this what they call ‘teenage angst’?

“When did I become so cliche?”

I turn on my phone and decide to read some more stories and try to make myself feel better.

No new updates…

Is it strange that I feel like crying right now?

“Stupid hormones”

I turn in my bed and try to think of other things I did to make myself feel better.

Eat a snack.

Go to sleep.

Read stories online.

Daydream.

Go for a walk.

All those things I normally like to do aren’t appealing to me. In fact, I don’t feel like myself.

I find some stored away energy to think about how I’ve been neglecting my Facebook account for days.

“His favorite color is toffee brown.”

“He likes the early hours of morning”.
for visiting.

“And running.”

He wrote it like it was no big deal to just, open up to someone. It’s obvious that he didn’t know how scared I was to share such trivial stuff with him.

“Would it kill you to be less paranoid?”

My aunt’s gentle voice replays in my head.

It was my first day of second grade, when she asked me that stupid question. I was terrified that I would be hated by my peers and teachers.

“Sammy, no ones going to hate you, be yourself, and let everything else be decided by chance.”

She hugged me outside of the playground at the school, and gave me a gentle shove towards the teacher, greeting kids and their parents as they walked in.

I shuffle my way up the path, my head, spinning, I find a nice corner to hide in, but choose to sit in the middle of the room.

My teacher introduces herself.

She’s called Ms. Tulip.

The other kids played around, already calling each other by name.

‘Just be yourself…’

I repeat to myself.

‘But no one would like you, Carmen doesn’t even like to talk to you.’

The voice in my head stated.

‘You can’t be yourself, you can’t, everyone will hate you.’

‘I don’t want to be hated-‘

A boy bumped into me, knocking his toy cars out of his hands.

“S-sorry”

He rubbed his rug-burned elbow as he looked up at me, then, at his cars.

This was it. My chance.

I squatted down and gave him my hand, he took it. Then I picked up his cars and handed them back to him.

I smile.

“It’s OK. The game you were playing looks fun, can I play?”

My heart is beating faster than a drum. ‘ Please let the smile work, please!’

“Sure.”

He handed me a little red car and ran back to the mat he was playing on.

I followed him. ‘This year I will like the color red and playing cars.’ I told myself, ‘Because my friends like it.’

My aunt smiled at me when she saw me walking out of school with a friend.

“I told you so! You already made a friend! See, it wasn’t that scary, right?”

I smile at her.

“Mmhmm. He likes cars.”

She smiles as she starts the engine and pulls out of the school parking lot.

The memory makes my room feel small and stagnate. I roll out of bed and stalk to my closet.

I think I’m going to take a walk after-all.

4:53 p.m.

The sky is still grey when I make my way outside. All of my relative’s cars already isolated our salted driveway, turning everything back to the way it was.

“At twelve the magic wears off”

The only lights on in my house were the Christmas lights that lined the otherwise dark rooms.

I heave dragon smoke and begin to wander around my block, my phone in hand.

It’s funny how inside I felt so stagnate but now that I’m out, feel so energized.

This newly found energy wants to take over my body and make me run as hard as I can.

Like, the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement makes me want to run. The further I get from my house the more I want to breakout into a full sprint.

How crazy does that sound?

My pace quickens, and my heart soars in delight.

I begin to run.

5:47 p.m.

I stop running when my lungs feel like they’re screaming, telling me to stop.

Breathing is painful and for some reason my whole head is throbbing.

I grab onto the closest thing near me.

I gasp for air for a while.

Finally, catching my breath after 20 minutes, I observe my surroundings.

I’m at the neighborhood playground.

My hands gripped the cold metal frame of the red swing-set.

I get off the ground and sit on the plastic seat.

My heart is still beating quickly and I’m scared I might have a heart-attack.

It’s six in the evening and it’s already become dark.

I grab my phone.

“3 missed call.”

The first two are from my mother. Most likely wondering when I will be home.

Then, there was the second one.

The phone number has a ‘New York’ area code.

No doubt, my Aunt calling from a different phone.

I ignore it, and text my mother instead.

Then, I write my second message.

“Toffee is such a gorgeous color! Honestly speaking, I thought you were talking about the candy(since I tend to always think about food 🙂 What a coincidence! I like running too! Though I get winded pretty easily, it helps me to clear my mind. It feels really cool to know someone who actually likes waking up in the morning. I’ve always been really bad at waking up in the morning. Lol.”

I cringe at the message that I just sent.

It sounded so desperate. I could see its tail wagging. It made me want to throw the whole phone away and live off-grid for the rest of my life.

I swing my legs in silence for a while.

My legs are numb from sitting in the cold.

But I just sit there.
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