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❝ to the stars who listen and the dreams that are answered ❞

recent update :

16. Angel in Disguise.
written on Friday, December 26, 2014 @ 3:30 PM

Every time I look into her eyes. I see everything I want to see. But the problem is that the last time it happened, it was four months earlier. All I can see now is the pain. I can barely see into her eyes. What people don’t know is, even though I ended this, I can feel the pain as well. Probably worse. 

Funny you’re the broken one,
But I’m the only one who needed saving.

I know what the lyrics mean now that I am facing the same thing. I keep on repeating the same song. I feel like I can relate to it. I am tired with people mocking me all along for leaving a girl that loved me with all her heart. All I hear is that all of this is my fault. Maybe it is. It is just that... Who wants to be like this? I am tired of having a feeling that makes me constantly hurt other people. So why don’t I just leave? 

I take another glance into the mirror before I get out of my room. As I am approaching the kitchen, I see my brother, Charlie, climbing up the stairs slowly, trying not to show the sign that he is now home. But really, who cares in this situation? This whole family is a wreck. I was about to grab the granola bars but then I hear mum’s voice. I can assure you that this is a daily routine or a tradition for our family. Just before I go to school, or have a breakfast, as I heard mum is about to yell at someone either Charlie or Dad, I eventually know that I have to get out of the house. I don’t care if it is too early for school, I can always stop at the store or wherever I want. As long as I’m not in the house to hear the whole family is breaking. 

I decided to take the long route to school. Yes, I walk to school. It’s not like the school is far away from the house. So, instead of wasting my parents’ money or mine for the gas, why not just waste the sweat? It’s not like I need it anyways. The reason I chose the long route is because Clara’s house is in the way. People might think that I’m the psychotic ex-boyfriend but I am not. Missing your ex-girlfriend is normal, right? Though I may be the one who left her. From a distance, I can see Clara is in the car. She is probably waiting for her little sister, Claudia. I was the one who supposed to fetch Clara and her sister to go to school. But not anymore, obviously.

Claudia is now rushing to the car. I take a look at my watch, realising that I have only 20 minutes before the school bell rings. So I start to sprint. Not wanting to arrive late to school but actually doesn’t care if I am. A detention wouldn’t hurt as much as having to listen to your parents fighting all day long. At least I can find an escape. I try not to draw the attention to Clara so I take the route in the woods. 

For another 10 minutes, I reach school safe and sound but breathing heavily as I have lost some of the air during the marathon to school. I walk toward my locker. I find it is hard trying to walk around the school even to my locker without everyone looking at me as though I am a serial killer ever since the breakup. 

I dated Clara in our sophomore year and now we are seniors. People think that we might get married someday, but they are wrong. People are wrong all the time. Our relationship ended tragically last September. The story became more tragic, for me, as I was the one who ended it. 

Clara, as you can say, is the most well-known girl in our school. Her name pretty much resembles her a lot. Clara, which means clear, bright, and famous. Angelique, means like an angel in French. Like an angel, she is. So when somebody started to date her, words will spread around the school quickly. You can never hide a thing when you are dating with her. She is, well, as what other popular girls are known for, beautiful. As a bonus, she is the most graceful ballerina ever. Walking past her without taking a second glance is almost inevitable. Yep, she is THAT beautiful. But she is not like what other popular girls supposed to be. She is quiet and a very sweet girl. Honestly, every time I think that I have ever dated her. it seems extremely surreal to me. 

People think I am stupid enough to leave her. I guess I would to if I am not me. People now see me as the asshole after the whole scene happened. Probably I am. But do they even care to listen to the side of my story? No, they don’t. So screw them. She is so loved. Every where she goes, she is such a pleasure to them. Me? It is like I have been cursed by some old witch when I was born. I wish I were someone else so I know why they hated me so much. 

As I open the locker, a rope fall out of it. This happens to me a lot. Kill yourself. She is THAT influenced. Now, people are looking at me. Some of them even laugh. I try to suck the air in but it wouldn’t pass my windpipe. I take my History textbook and rush to the toilet. I push people in the way, which make they hate me even more. Suddenly, the last thing that I want to happen right now is happening to me. I see Clara and she is looking into my eyes as though to say, this is what you want, so this is what you get. I feel my stomach churning. I’m about to throw up. But there is literally nothing in my stomach for me to throw. But still, I can feel something is gushing down my throat. As I reached to the nearest toilet, the whole thing just stop. But thing is getting worse, I start to cry. Oh no. Please, not right now.

People in the bathroom look at me strangely. I am so close to say, YES, I AM THE ONE WHO LEFT YOUR BELOVED CLARA. But I stop myself. I don’t want another consequences waiting for me at the door. I shut my eyes, wanting it to shut forever. Maybe then they will be happy for the rest of their life. 

I can barely move without feeling the anxiety all over me. I hate when this happens in school. This means that I need to skip the class and go to the library to calm down for another hour or so. My grades are already bad and this is another ‘bonus’ to me. I wait for the bell to ring so then I can walk to the library without everyone’s eyes on me. I wash my face. The coldness makes me calmer than before but still in my worst state. I don’t think I can get through the first period with Mrs. Anderson. The bell finally rings. After I am certain that nobody is in the hallway, I stepped out of the toilet. There is still people in the hallway but they don’t seem to acknowledge me. So I let out a sigh of relief. 

“Excuse me, Mr.” Shit. Without looking, I know that I’m fucked. I turn around. Nobody is in the hallway but a man in a striped-white-and-navy-blue button down and a red tie on top of it. I wonder if he realises that he is going for the sailor theme today. 

“Ah, nobody can never get away from me. Name?” It takes me awhile to figure out who my name is. “Nathan Davis. Nathan Castiel Davis.” Don’t know if my middle name is necessary. But I tell him anyways. I don’t know why my mum chose that name. I actually like it. “Ah, so you are the famous Nathan Davis. Who are you supposed to be with, Mr. Davis?” he asks while writing my name on a piece of paper. Ah, great. Detention. “Um, Mrs. Anderson.” He looks at me before continue writing. “Detention after school. Now go back to your class. Just because you are famous now, doesn’t mean you can skip classes whenever you want.” he says as he gives me the detention slip. I rolled my eyes as he starts to walk away. Who the fuck cares? 

I go straight to the library. Everybody seems to find a reason to punish me. I swear I’m tired of it. Nobody wants to choose this kind of life. This is like a karma. Suddenly, my mind rewinds to the day I left her. 

15 September. It was like the worst nightmare finally came to life. Do I love her? was not the answer to everything anymore. It abruptly became an unanswered question. As soon as I told Clara that I couldn’t do this anymore, that I couldn’t continue to hurt her unintentionally. She hung up on me. I can barely move without feeling the ache. Pain surrounded me the whole week. I could see the consequences was coming to me while handing me a medal with you’re fucked written on it. I should have known that the words would spread out eventually, but I didn’t expect it to be that fast. That was the first day I had my anxiety attack too, the worst yet. I even had to go back home. I couldn’t take another step in the school without wanting for the earth to swallow me up. 

I shake it off my head. Thinking about it will just make it much worse. A couple of people walks into the library. It looks like Clara. I bury my face on the desk so she can’t see me. I try to take a peep but I see her eyes look directly into mine. It is haunting. The big dark brown eyes, close to black, is looking into my blue eyes. I look around. People are surrounding me and each one of them looks like her. Instantly, I can already assure that this is just a dream. I can’t move. I struggle myself to wake up. I even try to scream but my voice stuck in my throat. Out of the sudden, I feel a light touch on my shoulder and that wakes me up. 

“Sorry. But you have to go. Library isn’t a place to sleep. Can you please just get out?” The stern voice actually does scare me. “Uhh.. Sorry.” I mumble. Without looking at that person, I just take my backpack and walk out of the library. Just before I take another step, I look into the library through the glass door and I don’t really see anybody. My heart starts to show a sign of panic, probably has gone back to the room, I say to myself. I probably am the worst optimist because the room doesn’t show any sign of light. 

I look at my watch and realise that my second class is starting for another 10 minutes. How long have I been asleep? Who cares. I go to the locker and take my French textbook. Quickly walk to the other side of the building. As I reached the room, nobody has arrived yet. So I sit in my usual place while waiting for Miss Calvin. I try to read the textbook but my brain can’t process any of the words at the moment. I start to think about what has happened in the library. 

Somebody walked in and look at me with a disgust face as if I’m a filth. I just wished this day could end faster. Or maybe just my life. Thank God today is Friday, which means no school tomorrow and no more suffering for two days. 

The hours pass slowly and finally come to an end. Before anybody else could walk out of the door, I rush toward the door but then my brain reminds me of the detention. I am trying to keep my voice from coming out, knowing that I would swear out loud. I don’t need another detention. So I walk into the detention room. Sit there and basically do nothing. Pretending I’m not exist. I take out my phone, which I rarely do anymore. Not since the breakup. I don’t know why but my thumb leads me to the Camera Roll. And suddenly Clara’s picture pops out. My heart shatters into pieces thinking that I broke her.

“You can go home.” I jump out of my chair. I run to home. I spend all day in the room, I don’t even go out for dinner. But nobody seems to bother. I feel invisible in my own house. What could be worse than that? Oh, the fact that the whole school hates me. The whole idea makes me cringe. I stared at the ceiling for too long, I’m afraid that it would create a hole through it. I’m thinking, should I do this or should I not, all through Friday and Saturday night. I can’t even sleep for two nights straight.

On Sunday morning, I turn my Macbook on. Trying to find an escape. Music is never a bad idea. But suddenly today, everything is. All of the songs sound like they are blaming me for anything that has happened in my life. And it came to my realisation that most of the songs are from the perspective of the brokenhearted and not the heartbreaker him or herself. I feel sick. How do I even live in this cliche world that showing us that only the norm is good? Didn’t actually somebody feel the pain when they left someone?

Who in the world loves to see the person that spending almost the rest of her life getting hurt? I’m pretty sure somebody will say I just use my mental illness for an excuse. The illness itself left me nothing but pain. Causes my heartlessness. Even this whole family thing is bullshit and sounds absurd to me. They create it just to make somebody feel loved and secured. 

If people would walk in my shoes, then they have the right to tell me who i am becoming, what i should do, or who i supposed to be. The thing is, they don’t even want to come near me. Instead, they step on my shoelaces and leave me lying recklessly on the floor with bleeding knees, and wounds up on my arms. Each day I’m getting weaker and weaker, and a part of it starts to show in public. Screw this, I thought. I need to get this thing right.

I go out to Clara and I’s secret place. A place to escape. On the rooftop of the old building near our school. We used to hang out there and just lay down, stargaze almost every night. I am starting to relive the whole scene again. I dialed Clara’s phone number. She picks it up on the second ring. “Um, Hello?” The sound of her voice gives me chill. “Hello, Clara. It’s me, Nathan. I wonder if we can meet up tonight?” There’s a moment of silence before she started to speak again. “For what? It’s over. You said so yourself.” I can sense the exasperation in her voice. I take a deep breath to cover up myself from trembling. “Please, I just wanted to talk.” She let out a sigh which makes me know the answer without her telling me. “Yeah, sure. Where at?” I used the magic word and it still works on her. “Usual place.” My face hurts from smiling to much. “Yeah, sure. Just give me 15 minutes.” Still the same Clara that I’ve known. “Thank you, my angel. This means a lot to me.” She hung up just before I could finish talking. But I don’t mind. She’s coming, I say in my heart repeatedly.

Precisely 15 minutes later, a figure of a tall and skinny girl, a perfect figure for a ballerina, appears. She had this sharp chin and high cheekbones that I miss touching. Being a very quite appealing gentleman, I stand up. She is one foot shorter than me, so she has to look up to look at me. I suddenly feel the urge to touch her face, but before my fingers reach to her face, she says “What is it that you want to talk about?” I can feel my face just starts to tighten up a bit. I look at the floor, then walk toward the edge of the building. I can hear Clara walking towards me. I can sense that she is worried that I might jump. I probably would if she isn’t here. I shake it off my head. I smiled at her.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time. But I had to get this out of my head. I can’t stand any longer. It’s just that...” The words wouldn’t get out of my throat. “I’m tired of what people look at me as. I know I ended this but I didn’t ask to be this sick.”

“Nathan, I...” she mutters. 

“CAN YOU PLEASE, FOR ONCE, BEFORE ANYTHING ENDS, LISTEN TO WHAT I’M ABOUT TO SAY? You make me look bad just because of my illness. You wouldn’t let people know the fact that I’m sick. The truth.”

“I think you’re just being in denial.”

“NO! SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! I GIVE YOU ALL OF MY HEART. BUT... But I lose it while I break yours. Now, I’m heartless. Heartless.” I try to suck in the air to stop the tears from dropping. But you can’t avoid it once you’re on the verge. She stands in front of me. “People keep telling me to kill myself every single day. I just want them to stop telling me how to die.” 

“But Nath... I can’t save you if you don’t want to be saved.” she interrupts. “Well then, you don’t have to save me. Just hold my hand while - I - save - myself.” I sobbed so hard I can barely get the words right. Clara holds my hand and gives it a squeeze, “I’m sorry.” I look at her in the eyes, “I’m sorry too.” Suddenly, the hatred, the anger rushes into me, I can tell that it’s just a lie that I push her off the edge of the building without realising what I am doing, like a revenge to punish her. I can see her face as white as sheet. She looks like she is about to scream but the voice wouldn’t come out. She gives me a betrayed look. There she is, flying-angelique-like an angel, I would say. But with broken wings. More like a fallen angel, she is.

It takes me a second to realise what’s happened before I could jump and try to reach Clara. And suddenly a flash of reality pops into my mind. It shows me how I have been delusional all the time. Nobody actually hated me, they just felt sorry for me because Clara rejected me. The whole ‘leaving her’ was actually just a cover up for the embarrassment in my mind. We were once best friends and then turned into a strangers with memories as what they would like to call it. I just could not accept the ugly truth. So my mind created the beautiful lie, a perfect denial, that those years that we have been ‘dating’ are just us being friends. Nothing more. Nothing more than just an imagination. A fairytale. A fantasy. A straight-up lie to myself. It’s over, I heard Clara saying it earlier on the phone. But she really meant our friendship. The rope, I put it inside my own locker, wanting to end my life sooner but couldn’t find the courage to do so. But also wanted people to look like I’m the innocent who to be blamed. That everybody hated. But everybody felt sorry for.

Nathan Castiel. I whisper my name to myself. Starting to hate my mom for gives me such name. Nathan, a gift of God, but little did she know it could be, too, as the Angel of Punishment. Castiel, a shield of God, the angel who feels the need to protect someone that he loves. I really hope my mum knows how she had fucked everything up for naming me as the two angels, how my name happened to be the worst combination. And leaving me living as a bipolar. I died trying to save the love of my life that I tried to kill her, with my bare hands. Though I already know that there’s no possibilities for which one of us, is going to lived.

Time goes slower and slower as if to let me realise that I am no angel. I don’t have wings. I’m just an angel in disguise.

there you go, i finally managed to get it done. i hope you enjoy it. i'm sorry if it's a little too dark or my reference of Nathan being bipolar is wrong or any grammar error. i have been changing the plot twist a lot and decided to go for this one. please do share if you feel like it worth the share. thanks for spending your time reading it. photo credits to WeHeartIt but edited by me.

Carpe Librum,


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