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Hatred
She hates me. That's all I could think of sitting on the bench on the local park. She hates me and I don't know why. Perhaps I just got dull? Or did I say something so undeniably offensive she couldn't stand looking or speaking to me again despite my constant efforts. I sat for hours wallowing in my anguish and I didn't notice when the sun went down and up again and I stared ahead my minds space taken up by constant thoughts of her. And yet it had nothing in it at all.
I stood up not quite knowing what I was doing or where I was going but I blindly followed my feet along the dirt path and to a semi detached house identical to the other ones on either side and ahead of it.
The house belonged to her. I hadn't been there that many times but my visits quickly became shorter. And more unpleasant. And then after three weeks of isolation from each other she was gone. I saw her often. In the corridors. In lessons, Christ she sat next to me in most of them, all the time. She was a constant reminder that I wasn't good enough for her. So why should I be good enough for anyone else?
That was the question this girl had implanted into my head stealing my sleep, my other friendships and eventually my life. It is because of this girl that my bones are tired, my body is tired and my will to keep going is almost non existent.
My eyes roam the exterior of her house and I picture the inside just as it was in my previous visit. Dining table just by the door leading into the back garden, her bedroom ,the top floor, wardrobe tucked into the right corner and stuffed toys tucked in her bed.
My eyes catch onto the top window and I see a girl, tall gangly and blue eyed stare her piercing stare down into the street. At me. A gasp catches itself in my throat wedged there for the eternity in which our eyes meet. Blue staring into blue. And then she blinks and it is broken. In that millisecond of disconnection the hurt and the memories of the past year rush back to me and I am angry and I don't care what abuse she shouts at me from the uppermost window of the house.
I reach into my bag and place down the birthday card she made for my 12th birthday and the frame containing pictures of me,her and our other old friends who are now so out of reach from me now as she is onto the driveway of her house. I turn and I leave.