His Paper Heart ✓

•7|His Name Is Ian

"DIDI STOP!" I give out a laugh and slap her hands away from my laptop. I get up from the bench, built into the walls of our room and sigh. "You want me to chase him after he rejected my friendship?" I walk on my toes to my study desk and place my laptop on it, before putting both hands on my hips. "Now lemme think about that obviously stupid idea. . .No!"

"I don't want you to chase him, I want you to tell him that he's a jerk and you don't need his friendship. You'll see he'll come crawling back."

"No!"

"Too bad. I honestly imagined you two together." She also stands from the bench and walks to her bed. "Goodnight." she turns off the light and climbs into her bed as I shake my head. 

I sleep in my bed, staring at the ceiling slowly darkened into midnight blue, never quite black due to the little light invading in through the window, reflecting the tiny freckles of sparkles dotting the ceiling. My grandfather adored the night sky, dotted by the millions of stars fiercely shining the darkness away. When he designed our room, he always said we would have a little part of that sky under our roof. He was right. I lick my bottom lip and let it stay between my teeth. Minutes of staring at the ceiling and they tell me nothing, like they ever could.

I don't get it. I don't think I'm old enough to understand life and that's unfair. Then again, I'm not a parent because it seems they know everything. All the turmoils, they've been through it. They have the answer to everything and hours of endless lecture to back it up. My mother ends every advice with, "whatever you're going through now, someone has gone through it before. Maybe not in your time but it has happened". It seems I'm the first to feel like my heart is a thin rope, waiting to be cut off. I'm alive now, I may not be tomorrow and I don't remember what answer my mother gave me when I asked her what I did to deserve not being worthy to live but I don't want to be sad. I need the storm in my life. I need that feeling of smelling like chaos in the ice cream shop, I need that back.

But I can't have it.

We don't always get what we want. I know that much.

"I want so badly to tell him my mind. I want to tell him I'm not an idiot."

"Then tell him," Didi says.

"I can't," I whisper. "He's really intimidating."

"That's what you say about everyone. He's intimidating because he think he is, he's not. Tell him you're not scared of him."

"I'm not like you. . ." I pause. "Didi, what's it like?" I whisper.

Silence. Perhaps, she is sleeping. I exhale and close my eyes.

"What is what like?" she murmurs sleepily.

"Being truly happy. . ."

She turns on her lamp and sleeps on her side to face me. "Dallas cheated on me and I went to Michael's house to sleep with him to get Dallas jealous. Michael said no, he didn't want me like that. So instead, we watched movies and talked and laughed. It felt like drinking water after days of being thirsty. He was a gentleman. Gigi, happiness is something different for each person. I can't tell you what it feels like. You're going to have to find out on your own."

"Do you think I have a crush on Gray?" I whisper.

"No." she shakes her head. "His rebellion is unique to you. You're like a zoo animal that has recently been let out of it's cage and he's a human who has been watching you from behind that cage. You've seen and heard of each other but not so up close."

"You're smart."

"I read it from a book Michael gave me last night. Title is, Understanding The Caged Brain. Michael thinks I will get over Dallas by studying this and a whole lot of science books."