I posted this on my social networking sites, so i’ll say it here as well. “The reason I’m single is because I believe in forever and people tend to find a reason to walk away from me.” - http://instagr.am/p/IYWPkVEtrC/
Beginning of A Story I Tried Writing: Thoughts Of A Social Reject!
Thoughts of a Social Reject
There she sat, my desires in the form of a female. As I stared in a daze, I only reminded myself of my current sentiments. I lost awareness of where I was and what I what I was doing. All I saw was her. She had everything that I could ever ask God for in a girl. Her physical appearance marveled me with every glance. Her body was exceptional, and she had a face that made me wonder how something so beautiful, could be created in only nine months. Her looks however, paled in comparison to her thoughts; she had the most beautiful mind. The way she looked was merely icing on the cake. I was so enamored by her existence; the utterance of her name forced a smile on my face.
And on cue, Ms Morris called on Tatum. In my current stupor, the biggest smile appeared on my face. Without my knowledge, all 16 students in the class began to stare in my direction. But I was focused on her. This prompted Ms. Morris to inquire as to why I was smirking so heavily. “Wade, what are you grinning about? Wade!” As I snapped out of lala land, I met every pair of eyes in the room. The only pair that held any significance was hers. When I looked into her eyes, it was as if I peeked into her soul. Although, I didn’t know her very well, that moment told me she was a great person. Then I came to the realization of what I was doing and quickly looked away as I gave an answer to everyone’s confusion. “Oh nothing Ms. M, just this joke I heard the other day came back to my head is all.”
I was Wade, overly intelligent, but highly under spoken. It’s no wonder Tatum barely knew who I was. My mind had this peculiar way of being a little too honest to me. It told me exactly what was wrong with me, without giving me a way to fix it.
My thoughts were crazy, but the pen and paper acted like a strait jacket. Writing gave me an outlet to vent my frustration with social imperfection. It was the canvas I painted my pain on. I started to think of why Tatum and I weren’t at least friends; boyfriend and girlfriend was a bigger stretch than winning the lottery.
Ms. Morris began to give out assignments, but I paid no attention. My mind was too busy scolding me for not having Tatum. Maybe I thought I wasn’t worthy enough for her. Maybe I was afraid that she didn’t want to know me. If that were true, it would murder my pride and hold what little confidence I did have for ransom. I honestly don’t think that I would be able to recover from that. I wasn’t afraid of rejection; I was terrified of it.
The bell rang to let of our first period English IV class, and by some stroke of luck Tatum and I exited the class one after the other. Here was an opportunity to talk to my chief thought. I walked briskly to the front door of my next class to catch her as walked by. As she passed I gather myself and said, “Ayo Tatum!” She stopped and my heart followed. I sighed at the sight and then asked, “What did we have for homework?” She stopped for a moment to think and then replied, “Oh, we have to write a page and a half about anything. I’m not sure what to write about though.” I said, with as much confidence as possible “You should write about love, that’s a popular topic.” Then she asked in a sarcastic tone, “What do you know about love?”
That I had no answer to; I really knew nothing about love. I did however; know that if given the chance I would love Tatum like no other person could. But I couldn’t tell her that. So I just suggested, “You should write about someone you’ve loved and the way it made it you feel.” I guess my mind wanted me to be jealous of the people who have had the pleasure of having Tatum’s heart. She thought for a moment and then informed me that that, “I have never really been in love and I’m not that great at creative writing,”
“Well I could help you write if that’s what you need.” I offered. To my amazement she agreed. She proceeded to give me her number and I couldn’t believe that this was happening. Was I dreaming? I did my best to hold back my excitement as she asked for my iPhone to store her number into it. I thought to myself, does she realize how this simple encounter has made up for the lack of communication I’ve had with her throughout this entire school year! It’s crazy how people can have a profound effect on you without even knowing it. Her intentions were only to get help with the writing assignment. My intent was to find a way to use this number to befriend her firstly. As she started to her class I sighed once more and entered my advanced math class.
The rest of school was a blur. Before I knew it, I was exiting the school bus, and headed home. All noise on the bus was ignored by the contact entry that read Tatum. Her name and number was in my phone. This fact I could not grasp. My stop came and I exited the bus thinking when I should give her a call. Should I just send her a text message? Would she even reply? What if she calls me? What do I say? I guess these questions would be answered later on today. I entered my home to meet my older brother. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I had the most negative person I knew under the same roof as me. He was just negative person for no reason I could understand. I knew I could expect some type of demeaning comments to exit his mouth. I just didn’t know how I would combat it.
As I entered the house, he saw me and spoke. “What’s up Wade!” He said as he made his way to shake my hand. Maybe this was a gesture to lower my defenses. “Sup Rob.” I replied reluctantly. I guess he was impatient, so he decided to show his negative nature early. “So Wade, did you get any numbers today?” he asked rhetorically, because he assumed he knew the answer. “Just one,” I replied as if it was just any number that found its way into my phone. He didn’t believe me until I showed him the contact entry. “Tatum? So you went at her straight up.? How did you get her number?” He questioned as if me just getting a girl’s number because she was attracted to me, and I was attracted to her couldn’t be the case. He was right. “I told her I would help her with this assignment for English class.” He began to laugh. His laughter caused immediate harm. He had no way of knowing what this number meant to me. He had no way of knowing that his negativity only reinforced what I thought of myself.
He didn’t care, “I knew you were lying. That’s not getting a number; that’s called getting used stupid. You don’t know the first thing to say to a girl.” He scolded. This statement, which was also a fact, struck me at the core. This is stuff that I already knew to be true. I didn’t need to hear it from my brother. He highlighted my social imperfections and I had no way to respond. I retreated to my room as he continued his laughter in victory. I don’t know why my brother would make me the victim of his verbal abuse. I don’t know why my own brother found solace in ridiculing me. It’s as if he used what he and I knew I didn’t like about myself to make him feel better about his lack of success in his adult life. I guess he felt; well at least I’m not as pitiful as Wade.
When I entered my room I took off my uniform and sat down at my desk to write.
I had such a passion for writing. The page and a half for English IV wrote itself. I chose to write about violence in America. I had lingering thoughts as to why my brother treated me that way. So I decided to write about it.
“I feel the need to remind myself that just because I have to tolerate being in your company, doesn’t mean that you’ll learn to grow fond of me. It’s like I let myself fall victim to the way I think things should be, and in turn, lose sight of the way things actually are. New goal: remember!”
As I let my feelings flow through my pen, I began to wonder if Rob and I would ever have the normal, loving brother relationship. The thought of a relationship like that was very appealing, but highly unlikely.
My mother was at some church function and wouldn’t be home until later on. This gave me time to prepare for the conversation I would have with Tatum later. I spent 15 minutes just thinking about the fact that a conversation would even be taking place. Then, I started to strategize. How could I help her with her writing? Maybe I could find out something that’s plaguing her thoughts and just assist her in putting those thoughts into words. Her mind was already a portrait of brilliance. I’d love to see how it worked; how she ticked.
A text came to my phone. I raced to see who it was and in the process of checking, nearly dropped the 500 dollar phone. I was disappointed to find out that it was only my mother. She wanted to know if I wanted something from the store. I wanted to reply, “
Do they sell Tatum’s heart there?”, but I just said get me a bag of chips and a soda. With the phone in my hand I started to look at Tatum’s name. After about ten minutes of just looking I decided to send her a text message. “Sup Tatum, This is Wade. I was wondering when you wanted me to help you with your homework.” To my amazement she replied quickly; exactly two minutes and thirty-five seconds(I watched the clock). Her text read, “ I’ll call you at 8, that’s when my minutes are free. What are you up to?” I couldn’t fathom an actual conversation, so I was unprepared.