Deep breaths

I walked past the queue. As soon as I had a quick scan of the crowd and realised what was on I knew he would be there. I just knew it. I turned the corner and, of course, my suspicions were confirmed. It was the hair I saw first, hidden behind two others. I walked on a few steps further and I saw him. I saw him for the first time in a long while. I stopped for a split second. Our eyes locked together. I smiled and waved. He did some wave-type thing back to me, along with that smile I love so much.

And then I did one of the hardest things I've ever done. I kept walking. I walked away from him. I pulled against that force that draws me to him. I turned away, even though it was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. I wanted to run over to him, and for him to take me in his arms like I was the only thing in the whole world that mattered to him. I wanted to stare into his eyes for hours, and most of all, I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to sit next to him and just be close to him; for our bodies to touch ever so slightly, and that spark of electricity to ignite.

But that didn't happen. Instead I kept walking. I left him behind and continued on. First of all, I pretty much kicked myself for not going to this same event. It would have given me the chance to talk to him, to see if that something was still there. Then I felt my heart breaking. I love that guy. And seeing him just reminds me of how good he made me feel the night I fell in love.

Thursday night.

So I'm sitting here at home on the Internet when I should be at an eighteenth. How sad. Is that. And I'm asking myself why I didn't go. It would have been an unreal night. Well for one I didn't really know anyone going, but that wouldn't necessarily stop me. To be honest, it's my parents.

And no, they didn't say no. They never even knew. I didn't tell them. And I guess that was stupid. But I just can't talk to them. I try, believe me, I try, but I don't enjoy it, so why should I bother. But then I try in other ways. I come home early, I don't get in trouble, I don't ask for too much. But they're never happy. Ever. And that makes me angry. And also stressed.

But it's not like they give out to me or punish me or anything. It's probably just me. But I try to make it as easy as possible for them. I sacrafice my own life for them. So that they can have a glass of wine, so that they can go to bed when they want. But what annoys me more than anything else is the fact that I get absolutely no thanks for it. I sometimes wonder if it would have been easier for me to have been a problem child from day one, and that I'd have more freedom now as a result.

But no. I was always a good child. I got the best results in the class. I never stepped out of line. And this is the thanks I get. A self-inflicted stress because I'm too afraid to trouble my parents. And why? Why do I bother? I come home, and I want more than anything to get out of the house, to leave. But I can't, I'm stuck here. I do nothing whatsoever wrong, and still I'm met with this frosty reception for no apparent reason.

I really don't know what I can do. Once I'm back at school I'll have to study so any time I have at home will be spebt in my room, and I'll have a proper excuse. But I've gotten myself a job for the summer. Well hopefully for the summer anyway. I got this job for one reason. To buy freedom. Well as close as I can get to freedom anyway. There isn't a hope in hell of me staying at home when I'm incollege, but of course they want to keep me within their reach. But I am out of here. So in order to live my life I am spending the summer selling scratchcards on the street. I know you're probably saying it's years away but I need to start saving now. This is my future. Not my parents', but mine. They thnk they can keep me here by offering to buy me a car, but I don't want one. I have my plans made, and I know plans always change, but I highly doubt I'm staying at home.

I should look forward to going home. I should like it. It should be my safe haven. But I'm always on edge when I'm at home. Jumping at every door that opens, sinking even lower at the sound of someone's footsteps or voice. I don't even know why I'm so stressed when I'm here, but I am. And I want to get away.

I know that sounds seriously depressed and suicidal, but it's not like that. I love my parents, but they just don't GET it. I know I take them for granted but it's hard not to when you're sixteen years old, and there's a party on a few miles away that you should be at.

There's this person I need to talk to, but they're always too busy, and not by any fault of their own. But it's ok, because people, they make me happy. I love people. Meeting new people, talking to people, just being with people. That's the dream.

People who make me happy...

A day or two ago as I sat in one of my favourite cafés I made a list. I made a list of people in my life who make me happy. Then today I randomly met someone, and I realised I had completely forgotten to put him on the list. And perhaps at the time, if I had remembered, I may not have put him down on the list. But I saw him, and I felt happy. It was a really nice end to the day.

From the very first time I communicated wuth him, I knew I liked him, and I was right. Since then, I have got to know him so much better. I have liked him as more than a friend, and have even been annoyed with him. But one thing i can never deny is the fact that he never fails to cheer me up. He never fails to make me smile. He never fails to make me happy.

Neither of us would ever admit to each other that we are good friends, but I know we both know we are. Today I saw him and it was a surprise to both of us. We didn't talk for long, but while we were talking we were both smiling. And inside, we were dancing. Wow that's cheesy.

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I've always wondered who I'll end up marrying. Apparently there's like a 90% chance that you'll marry someone you already know or something. This guy has always been a contender for me. I have liked him in the past but then quite recently I stopped. It became a friend thing only. Which I like. But I still think it's good to have some bit of sexual tension there. Because if that's not there, well, he'll just be like any other friend. Not that there's anything wrong with that either, but I just want something more, but something less, all at the same time.

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He's one of the guys who make me happy.