Memories were a larger thing to think about, it's a kind of nostalgia in its own, unexplained way.

I haven't brought myself to think about the things that bothered me in the past for a very long time. It was probably because I was, as of now, incapable of caring about someone more than I care about myself.

(2nd October, Thursday)

There was always a question of how you feel that's brought up in a conversation and it could have been in any form;

- How are you?
- What's up?
- How's life?
- What's it like?
- Why?

But mine had to come the way he had asked it, specifically in a way that was too straightforward for me to react immediately.

"How do you feel about it?"

It was a question of it's own, I don't know what 'it' really referred to or maybe I did, but that was besides the point. So, I decided to give it a reference of its own and pretend that I didn't know what the person was talking about.

"I don't know, David. I don't."

That definitely wasn't the answer he was looking for. His raised eyebrow, tapping foot and folded arms across his chest, told me that.

Sighing, I shifted from one foot to another and looked down, pretending to think long and hard, but I was actually about to pull out the second string from the 'Avoiding Unnecessary Questions' book.

Rule Two : Repeat Question after the partner/person in conversation with and pretend to think hard. Convince them that it is something you don't really want to talk about.

"David, I really don't want to talk about this," I mumbled, fumbling with my fingers. I wasn't worried about my memories, or that he'll know what exactly happened before, but what I was really worried about is that he would find out about the bet. I was specifically ordered to stay away from him and he has got to follow me around just when I don't need it. Where was he before this?

"Is something bothering you?"

"No, David! Nothing is, could you please just go away? Just leave me alone. I really don't want to talk to you right now, or anyone for that matter of fact. Leave, please," I whispered the last words slowly, begging him with my eyes, to just listen to me.

"Just tell me what happened, what were they talking about there? Your friends, I mean. I just want to know and I'll leave. I want to know how you feel about it, what's bothering you."

Taking a deep breath in, I looked up at him and swallowed hard. Memories were never my forte, but I had to get it all out eventually and it's not like what happened years ago, was a secret at all. Everyone knew about it, in fact, it was everyone who was behind it.

"I feel awful, okay? I just don't want to think about it and everytime I do, it bothers me! So much, like," I swallowed, my throat clogged up now, "so much. I hate how much I feel and how people treated me. I can't understand how can one hurt another so much?"

"How could one make someone feel so bad as to make them want to kill themselves? Make them feel so alone and be okay with it? Would you do this to yourself if you had a choice, would you make yourself suffer? Would you really be prepared and know that it still hurts, but still do this to yourself anyway?"

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Leave, please," I searched for any emotion in his eyes, but there were none. There was nothing and it was a first for a Leon family member to ever hide an emotion and I knew that right then and there, in front of my eyes, just like I changed in front of him, he was a person changing in front of me and I couldn't stop it. I could do nothing to stop it.

"Okay."

"Good," and as I said that, I quickly turned around and stalked back through the school's entrance with my head held high and my heels as loud as ever.

I looked at him, and he looked back and I don't know how long we've stood there in the middle of the school's narrow hallway with the green lockers lining them at all the sides, skipping our uneducational class for our argument, staring at each other.

Slowly turning around, I closed my eyes and started walking away. Leaving my car behind, I decided to just walk around and leave myself to the self destroying thoughts that I always seem to escape.

David was my most beautiful distraction. I enjoyed him. I enjoy kissing him. The feeling of his lips on mine, surged and spiked a certain piece of me. I let him make me feel things I've never felt before. I will let him leave and let go of me and me do the same thing back because I wanted to believe that I had no heart to be broken, that I could never be broke.

But of course, those were exactly the type of things we could only imagine and lie to ourselves about, the only things we wished never really existed because no one wanted to believe in love when you asked them about it. No one wanted to feel the pain or know what that pain felt like, or feel sorry for one another. No one wanted any of this.

That was the thing about people like me, and you, and everybody else. The good and bad never mattered because it is not it that plays the role. It is us that is responsible for the planet we live in and its strength, for the mistakes and the sins. That was the thing about people, they make each other feel terrible because they do, because they can, or because they didn't mean to. But what in this world is unintentional? Nothing.

And that's why I walked back home, letting the cool breeze gently touch my skin, let it slowly cover it in its freshness and then freeze it over. I walked back thinking of all the things I've done and all the things I shouldn't have, but it didn't matter because they were already done and there was nothing that could change that.

I thought about how David would feel when he finds out a I betrayed him. I thought about how I would feel when he wouldn't be a part of my life anymore and I couldn't have imagined it, I couldn't. I couldn't imagine my life in this world without him.

What would I be doing? Who would I take a smoke with? Whose car would I sleep in and who would help me pass my math class?

I didn't want to think of how long I pretended to be shallow. I didn't want to think about David, but I did. I told him about how I started smoking. How I didn't want to, but I did. I did because life was dying, not living.

How can one live a life? How can one possibly put two words with the same meaning in a sentence and expect it to make sense? Smoking is killing yourself, but so was living and so was having coffee.

Life consists of a bunch of excuses you make, and you consist of either being stronger or weaker than the excuses you make.

Daniel's text saying that's he's 'coming over', interrupted me from my line of thoughts, moving them to a totally different direction.

Just another month and I'll be done with tutoring him, and hopefully, done with school.

"Lunch is ready, and you're gonna eat."

Ignoring my dad's sudden mood swing, I placed my car keys and wallet into the basket in the kitchen counter and sat across my father on the chair in our kitchen.

"What's gotten into you today?" I asked, bemused.

"You find this amusing? You think I didn't notice?" He yelled, slamming his spoon on the table, leaving a mark on the red wood.

I narrowed my eyes at him and then raised an eyebrow, "notice what?"

"Your disorder," he snaps, making me laugh.

"What disorder?"

"I've went through your papers that you've left on your desk."

"You went through my stuff? You had no right to do that!"

Getting off the chair, I ran up the stairs and locked myself up in my room. My back against the door, sliding down to the floor.

"You there?" A voice asked, followed by three knocks.

"Give me a moment, Daniel."

Wiping the tears off with the sleeves of my shirt, I get off the floor and open the door.

He was smirking, his large lips formed into the thinnest line as he stood there leaving against me door with his white polo shirt and light blue jeans.

"What's up?" his smirk widened and I rolled my eyes.

"Just get it in and open up your text to the exercises of chapter three, we'll be doing that today and I'll be right back with you."

"All right."

I closed the bathroom door and ran the tap, washing all the make up off my face and tying my hair up into a neat bun, making sure all hair is out of my face.

This is going to be a long, long four hours of tutoring.