So I need some help with this. I'm rambling on, and I don't know how to finish it off. And the title is crappy. Any suggestions?
One of the worst feelings ever is knowing that you’re being judged. You’re just walking along, trying to get to class on time and you can feel their looks on your back even though your head is lowered, and you can hear their whispers slicing through the air towards you. Worse even than that is not knowing what they’re saying, not knowing if they’re on your side or not. Every step you take, you’re diminishing, until you may as well not even be there at all. But you know they’d still talk about you.
And there he is all smug, right in your path. He’s got nothing to worry about, and he knows it. After all, he gave you the flick. He doesn’t have to deal with loss of dignity and sleepless nights, wondering what he did wrong. No, that’s your cross to bear. Cheeks burning, heart thumping so loud you’re certain everybody can hear, legs to useless jelly. His glance slides right over you. Of course he’s not going to say anything, what more is there to say? Nothing he said could make it better. He had the opportunity, when you were crying and telling him you loved him. He could have taken it all back, changed his mind, come to his senses. But things like that tend not to happen when you’re wishing with every ounce of your being that they would.
Once you’re in class you can breathe properly again. You think you hear somebody say your name in a conversation across the room, but you could be wrong. You hope you’re wrong. Focus on the words on the board, on what the teacher is saying, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. All the while your mind is going crazy, running in circles, replaying the expression on his face. Did he even have an expression? He might not have even seen you. He would have been too busy looking for her. The one he said he’d rather be with.
‘I heard he dumped her because she was frigid.’
You weren’t supposed to hear it, but you did. Or maybe you were supposed to? You wouldn’t be surprised. Those girls aren’t your friends, they wouldn’t care. They’d enjoy seeing you break a sweat; enjoy seeing the tears in your eyes. Well if that was what they wanted you weren’t going to give it to them. Dig your nails into your palm and ignore them. But their words stick in your head. Frigid. Was that it? You’d talked about sex, but you hadn’t been ready. You’d promised him soon, and you knew he was getting impatient. But he’d been so understanding! Never pressuring, always saying ‘only when you’re ready.’ Well so much for that then. You just wished you’d been able to figure out what was wrong with you before those girls did.
You can give your all to somebody, but the one thing you’re holding on to is the only thing they want from you. If you’d known what to do to make him stay with you, would you have gone against your values and taken the plunge with him? Would it have even kept him around much longer anyway? Maybe he would have found something wrong with your body. Maybe it just didn’t matter to him if everything in your heart was right.
Some people don’t know how to accept love. They get given it, but don’t know what to do with it. Was he one of those people? Did love not matter to him? And if that was true, was every time he said it to you just a ruse?
Before you’re even aware, the tears are coming thick and fast. People are staring at you, not knowing what to say. Then you feel a hand on your shoulder, the first gentle touch all day. “You can excuse yourself for a while if you like”, she says softly.
You don’t know where to go once you’re out of the room. Furiously you wipe the wetness from your cheeks with your sleeve. That shouldn’t have happened. Never show any emotion. Never bare the wound. Fuck, none of this should have happened. Things like this don’t happen to you. They happen on television, to pathetic girls in cheap soap operas, to trashy celebrities in the midst of a divorce and to anyone else but you. How could you let a person affect you this way? You always thought you were stronger than this. But times such as these always test that strength. How thick is your skin really?
Walking past desolate classrooms, working yourself into a state of calm. One day soon you’ll look back on this and laugh. But would you really? Right now you feel like this is the least funny thing possible. There’s nothing humorous about a broken heart. This feeling, it isn’t comedy. A part of you is shattered, the part that keeps you living in perfect synchronicity with the people around you. Now you feel completely detached from them, because somebody took the best part of you and they didn’t care. He didn’t care what he’d done.
Time for the extraordinary critique 
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