If there is anything I could not stand on a Monday morning, it is seeing Victor Daniels’ motorcycle in my parking spot.
I roll my eyes and groan in annoyance.
“Every. Single. Monday.” I mutter, already through with my day that barely even began.
I park my jeep else where and mutter curses under my breath as I walk across the long parking lot in my black pumps.
We do the same thing every week. Victor will park in my parking spot, I’ll report it to the principal, and he’ll say it was an honest mistake, then come the next week he’s in my spot again.
“Honest mistake my ass.” I gritted, glaring at his motorcycle as I walk by.
Too bad vandalism is a crime.
I’m at my locker gathering my things for first period when I hear an obnoxious laugh down the hallway.
I look at him in disgust.
Man how I hate that kid.
Today he’s sporting a black eye and a split lip, not that anyone would be surprised. It is a normal thing for Victor, that delinquent is always getting into fights and starting trouble.
Two weeks ago he had this nasty bruise on his jaw, it looked so bad and was painful to look at. Apparently he got into a bar fight, he’s not even old enough to drink yet! He probably used a fake ID to get in.
I shake my head and turn the other way when I notice he is looking in my direction.
I glance his way to see that he is walking right towards me.
I roll my eyes, “Ugh. As if my day could not get any worst.”
I shut my locker and start to walk off but he is too quick.
“How was your walk across campus this morning? It sure would have been easier if you were in your regular spot wouldn’t it?”
“Get lost Daniels. I do not have time for you today.”
“Why so hostile this morning?” He smiles.
“Because I had to take a long walk in heels thanks to a very annoying person.”
“Look I’ll tell you what, go out with me this weekend and I promise to stay out of you parking spot for the rest of the year.”
I pause in my steps and look at him, shocked that he even proposed such a thing.
“Kidding.” He smiles.
I roll my eyes and walk off, and he rushes after me.
“Okay fine, I’ll stay out of you parking spot. For good this time.” He smiles.
“Whatever.” I say, not believing for one second he is being sincere.
After school I was not even trying to get side-tracked by people, I really wanted to just go home already.
I got a text from my bestfriend, Carmen Vela Rosa, asking me where I disappeared to.
I made up some lame excuse about how my parents wanted me home right after school. I don’t know why I lied, I could have told her the truth, but I didn’t.
No one is home right now and I am not expecting anyone walking through that front door until five in the afternoon, or later. It is currently after three in the afternoon and I did not have much to do than stare at my white walls.
Being an only child really sucks sometimes, but I am not in the mood for any company right now. As a matter of fact, I do not know what I want exactly.
I have a ton of homework I really should start, a test I should study for, and a project due at the end of this week.
“Mayhem Monday” never fails to add unnecessary stress to my life, still, I continue to prolong the inevitable.
I sigh heavily, bored out of my mind. I need a purpose, I need something to do.
I roll off my bed and go down stairs into the kitchen.
“Maybe I will make dinner tonight,” I thought aloud.
I entertained the idea in my head until I felt a spark go off inside my chest. It was a warm feeling that made my soul feel at peace and I live for that feeling. It is what I call a “feel good” moment.
Heaven knows how far I would go to obtain that spark. It was so short lived, but eternal in my memories. That is what makes it so vital to my soul. I just know that if I can never get that feeling, I would be a void.
Memories are great, but moments, they are the most beautiful things.
It’s like connecting something with a happy memory that makes you feel good.
Like when I was little, every now and then I would cook with my parents and it would make me so happy. So whenever I want to cook but have no motivation, I just think of that happy memory and how I felt in that exact moment, and then all of a sudden I just want to cook and make everything. I call that feeling a “spark” or a “feel good” moment.
No one would ever understand the “feeling” or “spark” I speak of, and I do not expect them to.
I always felt like I never belong anywhere; it's always so hard to connect with others. Even my bestfriend Carmen. We are so close we tell each other everything; I know her like the back of my hand and vice versa. Still, there are just somethings I simply cannot discuss with Carmen because I know she will not understand. I trust her, but I also know her.
If I were to ever open up her in such a away I already know what she would say, “You’re crazy.” And then we’d move on to another topic as if nothing was said.
I am actually the one at fault for Carmen’s lack of respect towards my emotions because I act as if they are nonexistent. She calls me “cold-blooded” or “cold-hearted” or a “heartless bitch” sometimes, the list goes on. Either way, how can I expect others to care when I barely even care myself?
“Walking contradiction,” I mumble as I open the door to the food pantry. I scan the shelf to find something to prepare and I end up with pasta.
It is the only thing I know how to make any way.
My dad was late today, he did not get home until nine o’clock at night. By then I was already slaving off on homework to even care about the “bad sparks.” They are what I feel when I'm sad or disappointed.
I feel those a lot, but unlike the “good sparks,” they vary in duration. Some last as long as the “good sparks” but others can last so much longer. For those kind, the name “spark” is no longer fitting, it is more like an “explosion” with a long lasting aftermath. That aftermath can even last days, weeks, even months if I sulk and bask in it long enough.
But enough of this unnecessary depressing talk, I hate dwelling just as much as I love basking.
After I finished my homework, I took a hot shower and went to bed.
I'm staring at the ceiling in the dark, just wondering, wondering if there is anyone else in this world who can possibly understand me. Who thinks that same way I do, who can explain the thoughts in my head, who can know me better I know than myself.
“Is there anyone in this world who wouldn't tell me I'm crazy?”
There has to be.
Just the thought of that gave me a “good spark.” I smile at that.
One day I will find you. Whoever you are.
I will find you.