Young Writers Society

Sorry, I Don't Believe In Love

I am not the same person i used to be. No... Not at all. I used to be the gentle girl who preferred the serenity of the backwoods than to the bustling and impersonal city. Now i only dream to lay down with pine needles crowning my hair and twigs digging in my back to just relax... Relax like we were meant to.

She used to think Love was a kind soul, rich in mercy and flowing with grace she was so very wrong. High school changes a person. So deeply, so richly. She told me what she discovered one day while we were hiding from classes in the bathroom. She had put the toilet seat down and sat down, keeping the stall door open with her feet that were crossed at her ankles. She had her hands folded behind her head and relaxed, while she stared at the ceiling i thought how normal it would be to see her bring out a cigarette and start smoking it. I shook the thought form my head as she started to speak:

"When I started high school I believed that love was beautiful and pure but difficult and still the world accepted it. Then the next year i found that love was nearly impossible to find and that it picked the people who could have it as if it was a secret society where only few got in and stayed alive, and obviously i was not one of those people. But now we're on the down slope of it and im starting to see that maybe its a little bit of both: everyone can have love, everyone can give love. But only few are strong enough to get through it together and unshattered."

She picked up her head and looked at me.

"We have one left, at the end of it all check in with me then and we'll see how it all ended."

I felt as if that was my cue to leave, that she silently and invisibly shooed me away back to the bores of class. As i sat in class for the rest of the hour I pictured her sitting there on her porcelain throne thinking about the meanings of life, love, and why we are insane enough to deal with it all day in and day out. Maybe she finally did pull out that cigarette and stick it between her lips. But never lighting it, she would never give power to something to didnt deserve it, and in her eyes a cigarette it not deserve to have to have the power to kill her.

"Thats only reserved for special people there Freshie." I can ear her whisper.

I saw her around school once more she was walking down the hallway so graceful she wasnt walking down caging hallways of high school, but when i blinked again she was gone. I may have seen her once but I never spoke to her again, i never even knew her name. I will never forget our bathroom conversation: her talking about Love and me leaning against a disgusting bathroom sink staring in awe at the presence before me.

By the end of the school year a month later, the school spoke about how she left. She wouldn't leave unless she had a reason... Just poof gone. Just bang gone. I guess its my job to see where we end, with the theory on love, "We have one left..." Her notebook was filled with numbers just numbers, numbers, numbers. I think she was really onto something that day... It looked like she was ticking down to a deadline. There was a pattern with everything she said... Believe, unbelief, belief.... One month. Unbelief.... Unbelief would be next... Thirty-one days. Maybe she knew all along... And on June 1st she reached it, just bang and she was gone.