13There she is.
Mercy Stark. Literature class, two seats up and one seat left. Long, silky blue-black hair and vivid blue-gray irises. Porcelain skin, blush-pink cheeks, long black lashes and rosy lips.
She is perfect.
Mercy doesn't socialize much. She's shy and likes to be alone. When you call her name she looks at you with these big, beautiful cerulean eyes. They're like pure, clear lakes that perfectly capture your reflection. It's like you never want to leave those beautiful, beautiful blue eyes.She doesn't speak much, but she speaks brilliantly with a pen. She's editor of the school newspaper. Her words hit you like tsunamis or tornadoes or kisses. They dig deep into your heart, mind, and soul. They make you think, they make you do, they make you follow.
She is perfect.
I, on the other hand, am pure imperfection. I'm a slow motion car crash personified. Always waiting…sluggishly waiting for tragedy to strike. I'm pathetic. I hate myself. Myself is so fucking stupid. I hate myself for loving her so much. I hate myself for hating those she loves. I hate myself for hating myself. I generally just hate myself.
I wish I'd die.
I've tried many times. Its surprising how easy suicide is. Knives, tall buildings, drugs, alcohol, water, shotguns, pistols, revolvers, plastic bags, pens, vitamins, poison, McDonalds…So many opportunities…so many choices…So many times I've wanted to. There's always that little voice in my head,
Look, Leon. It's her. Go talk to her.
I can't. She's with…him.
Oh, that's right. Him. That pathetic excuse for a human being. That scum.
He's not scum. How could he be? She…
She loves him.
…
She loves him. She'll never love you. Did you know that? She'll never love you. No one will. She'll always be there; you'll always be waiting. For all of eternity. An eternity of heart-wrenching rejection. That is your life. Rejection.
Shut up.
You're pathetic. You're so pathetic. Look at you…pathetic.
No.
Says who?
Mercy.
Mercy knows nothing. She is perfect. Pathetic isn't in her vocabulary. Don't worry, she'll realize how horrible you are soon.
Shut up.
End it now.
Shut up.
End it.
SHUT UP!
Your life is a joke.
SHUT UP!
End your life.
No. Mercy wouldn't like that. Mercy will come around. She will, she will, she will…she'll realize…she'll love me. One day…one day…
That's a lie…
Out of lit class, into the stream of kids in the hallway, Logan crashes into me. I drop my books. He helps pick them up, along with some of my loose papers. I want to punch him. I want to stab him.
I want him to die.
"Sorry about that, man," he apologizes, "Here's your stuff back,"
He hands my books back to me and for a split second it seems like time has stopped. I'm looking at him…he has that phony, sincere look on his face. What a joke. What a fake. I want to knock him out right there. I want to slug him. I can feel the tingling in my fists, every cell of my body wanting him to die.
"It's cool,"
Time flows again, kids streaming left and right, trying to carry me away…not knowing I exist…not caring if I exist.
I am just existing.
That is all. No one notices, no one cares, no one acknowledges me, no one is concerned, no gone gives a damn, no one will help me, no one sympathizes, no one bears any pity, no one loves me.
Except her.
Mercy.