Page 35

Sundrop: August 2001

He’s cute, like really cute. Exactly my type and not, like the good type, that I normally like and not the bad type which I normally attract. He’s got beautiful blue eyes. It’s hard to tell when he keeps discretely avoiding eye contact. The glasses he wears covers them up a little too. He’s gorgeous, if you get a chance to see him properly. I feel like he hides. I don’t like people hiding from me.

I sit down next to him and stare at him. I know I can be intimidating, guys often tell me so, but I don't know what they expect? Yes, I am staring. Yes, I am making a lot of intense eye contact but that doesn’t intimidate me. Why does it intimidate them?

Silly boys.

I touch the tip of my purple Converse trainered foot to the tip of his red Converse trainered foot. My left to his right and make a comment. “We should swap trainers.” His feet are bigger than mine, much so by the looks of things. He figures this out quickly, “I don’t think they’ll fit.”

Mine, his, either, both. Us.

“But it would look cool,” I say, trying for fun and enthusiasm and probably just annoying. Everyone always tells me I’m being annoying. I’m almost about to talk myself out of trying to get to know him when he looks up at me. I’m startled again by how pretty his eyes really are. He’s so cute. His hair is so light, the sunlight shining down on him and illuminating him in a way I have a feeling is going to stay with me. He’s just so pretty.

I can’t help but look at him as he does the same to me. Watching me, waiting for something. Should I say something? I’m at a loss for words now. Too busy watching the light dance across his eyes. The blue is so clear and as light as his hair. God above, Satan below I am in trouble. There’s always a new boy. There’s always someone to have a crush or a fixation on but this one is different. My lord Lucifer, I want this one to keep.

I can already feel my mental claws trying to dig into him, capture and ensnare him. I have a web I’d like to trap him in, slowly feast upon him body and soul. I want his heart; in whatever way I can have it but I’d rather he gave it to me willingly.

We sit there side by side, our feet still touching and his intense gaze is as searing and penetrating as mine. It should be weird- this silence, the quiet but it’s not. I almost reach out to touch him but just as I am trying to make my hand move to touch his arm, a sound booms from behind me, and I startle. Which is weird because very rarely does anything startle me. It’s the deep sounding voice of a man. Coming up from behind me and walking past us where we are all grouped together.

College, first day for this new class I am attending. A stepping stone to bigger things for me. I love academics but am not suited for school social situations. High school was difficult for me to navigate and almost impossible to do sober and fully lucid. Vices I have plenty regardless of my age. I was brought up by junkies and alcoholics, these things I know better than most people know of regular hot meals and being tucked in at night. I’m not bitter or jealous though, that just wasn’t my life, no matter how much I may have wanted different things when I was younger.

Now, I have a real opportunity to move out and move away. I have my sights set on university because as much as it’s like school, it’s not really. And I feel like I may excel somewhere away from those who only pull me down with their incessant meddling and trying to control me.

I am uncontrollable, uncontainable and I am ready to expand my horizons. My sights set due north.

Why that makes me think of pirate ships and adventure upon the open water I have no idea, but I get a vision of myself as a pirate anyway. I’d much rather be a fairy but never mind. I do want a sword. I’ve always wanted to learn to wield one. To cut the heads from the shoulders of my enemies.

I’ve gotten distracted again and the other kids in my class have mostly stood up and moved away. They are following the retreating steps of the man with the big, important sounding voice. This boy is still sitting next to me, watching me. He stands, holding out his hand for me as I look at his outstretched palm. Usually I’d recoil at such familiarity, at anyone trying to touch me. Least of all a male someone.

However, I surprise myself by finding that I do take his hand. I even allow him to pull me up to my feet. We stood there for a moment, and now the height difference is startlingly shocking to me. He must be six feet to my five foot three. I really must look up at him. He realises this too, because a smirk plays across his face. It’s not unkind, just knowing. He knows what I’m thinking because he’s thinking the same thing.

How that height difference could be fun to explore.

The possibilities.

I have somewhat of a creative mind and vivid imagination.

I also like boys a lot. At sixteen, I am free of school and hopeful to be free of my family soon. I can use college as a stepping stone to get me from living at home, to moving away to university. I’m clever enough, I just hope I am emotionally mature enough. It’s always the lack of emotional maturity that was a consistent concern in my class reports. I hope I have the social skills and street sense smarts I’m always told I lack to cope. I don’t care, I want it, and I'll have it. I am determined enough to make this work.

He smiles at me a little more openly now and says, “I’m Cole.”

I feel like I know him, seeing him standing at his full glorious height. “Hi Cole,” I say softly, tasting his name in my mouth and enjoying the way it moves around between my teeth and tongue. “I’m Sundrop,” I say, using my nickname too.

Some kids at school took the piss out of me, calling me everything from a devil worshipper to a whore and I believe the nickname originated somewhere from my goth phase of being “a little drop of sunshine”. They laughed when talking about me, pointed and made fun of me in front of me. They didn’t even have the skill or class to do it behind my back.

Sometimes I didn’t care. Other times I felt annoyed because I was missing school because I was terrified that I’d kill one of the little cunts. I’d daydream in class of taking my lighter, leaning to the girl in front and setting her hair on fire. How happy the thought of smelling her hair as it burned, watching her scream and flap her arms around in panic.

How silly she would look.

I could hear my laughter at the thought of it.

Other times I’d sit and think about picking up one of the chairs and beating them to death with it. How I’d bring it down fast and hard repeatedly upon their heads and watch them die. The screaming, the thick splattering of blood everywhere. It brought me peace, it made me feel calm.

Intrusive thoughts? More like awesome ideas for a wonderful and happy life.

Still, I knew I couldn’t, and I had no help or support available. I had to figure out ways to regulate my emotions by myself or else I’d end up being locked away for good. That would have been a waste of my precious life. I had plans, places to visit and things to do and I wasn’t going to let these little assholes get in the way of that.

I didn’t let them live because I felt bad about the idea of killing them. I knew that killing them, causing them pain specifically WOULD make me feel better. I didn’t do it because I knew my life was more important, more valuable than theirs. I wasn’t going to jail or worse, a mental institute because of them.

So, I learned to hold my tongue, to keep my hands to myself. No matter if my fists were balled up so tightly, I’d break a nail. No matter if I had to cut myself, burn myself, bash my head against a wall. These were all the painful things I’d do to myself to stop an emotional or insane breakdown. It helped, the shock of pain would usually bring me out of my fantasies, of my delusions and make me face reality. Reality has never been a favourite place of mine.

In fact, I think that's the original dissociation, that split I caused is where my brain went mad. I needed somewhere safe to live so I created somewhere safe of my own. My own true safe place, away from this fucking godforsaken town, is too dear to me to give up for petty revenge. No matter how justified I felt I would be. It wasn’t worth it. I had to keep reminding myself.

Cole. He was a distraction though. A welcome one? Could he be the one? My person? My soulmate? The one I’ve been desperately waiting for.

I had always longed for a soulmate. Someone bound to only me. Someone who would see the good and the bad and love me unconditionally anyway. Wishing upon stars for love, someone to rescue me and take me away from the neglect and abuse I knew I was suffering from but never openly acknowledged.

Cole.

I liked the taste and sound of his name. So, I tried it out.

“It’s nice to meet you Cole,” I said, smiling at him. It was a real smile because why not, I do like things. I take enjoyment in people sometimes. I could enjoy him. In what way I wasn’t yet sure.

One thing I did know is that I wanted to keep him. ?