14 years old, my life’s begun

Where did it all start, let me see.

Pretty odd, beginning a story from my mother’s womb.

Maybe it is a story of a little girl living in a countryside whose only real friends were bugs, ladybirds, frogs, neighbors’ cats and two old crows. Her mum was as lonely as she, and found a way to understand her loneliness by buying random books from a bookshop delivery magazine, and then reading them fiercely with her weak morning coffee. The little girl was mesmerised by the sea of bright covers on every page. Soon Psychology became her favourive section.

But I should perhaps mention that this was pretty much because of a boy. The boy was one and only person in the world who seemed to understand the girl. He understood not that she was different (everyone knew it), but how she was different. He understood her distinctness because he was an alien himself. He came to the village from the city and his parents were divorced. He was the prettiest thing the girl has ever seen, even compared to the woods.

I remember his blue eyes and much longer than mine eyelashes. I mostly saw his face upside down, as during a class, he bent backwards and placed his cheeks much too near me. He would smile teasingly and sometimes make a remark on my awkward reaction. I didn’t miss a single day of school in these three years, craving for more and more intimate interactions. I was only interested in chemistry and maths to help him with homework. I was only paying attention during lessons to let him not pay any, and then maybe touch my hand when handing him my notebook to copy.

He soon became popular among pretty people in the school, and she wasn’t pretty at all. She wanted to understand why did he suddenly became so cruel.

Even though, when drunk and dark, he’d come on his bike under her balcony, to set, what looked like, million little lights in the shape of heart. He would call her and forbid to look until he’s finished. And then she would look. And she wouldn’t say a word, not because of fear of waking everyone up, but because she didn’t have words.

His unexpected bursts of love towards her felt so irrational and so rational at the same time, that she soon got lost. How long can it take for a teenage girl to stand up again, after first love’s collapse? Fear and trembling of what seems to be the most intense experience in one’s life, requires proper explanation. My woods didn’t seem to have one.