Unknown, chapter 1
Unknown
The things I'm gonna tell you about happened like 3 years ago. In those days I went to a school called "Kaufmännische Schulen I" (English = something like: "Commercial Schools I") in Hanau. That's near Frankfurt, Germany, in case you want to know. I think nearly everybody goes through some phase at least for once in his or her life. But I used to be pretty insignificant. I really was. Sometimes it even happened that people stood on my foot and they didn't notice at all. And I was too shy to tell them.
In those days I was crazy for a boy - Tim Kurzweiler. God, every day I wished that I could tell him how much he meant to me! But every time I saw his face, I had my crazy heart in my boots. I just couldn't manage to open my stupid mouth. Every time he came in sight, my brains seemed to explode. On these rare occasions when Tim was looking my direction, catching a glimpse of me, I blushed immediately. Man, my head must have looked like a tomato. My pulse seemed to go triple as fast as it was supposed to and I thought I was damn close to a heart attack. And then I quickly looked away. That's how it used to be, every day I saw him at school. One day I at least managed to bear his ultra-cool gaze for about one-second. I even said "Hello" (well, I'm sure it sounded like a whisper). I got no reply. It was likely that he hadn't even heard me. I figure I should have used a megaphone to make it possible for him to hear a single tone.
Man, his green eyes killed me. I thought of Tim all the time. Day by day. Minute by minute. He freaked me out, literally spoken. Especially his amazing, mischievous I-Do-What-I-Want-Smile, surrounding the corners of his perfect mouth. And his hair... Deep black and all over the place, like as if he just got up. He wasn't too tall for a boy, only about 1, 70 m (I think it's like Billie Joe's height, but I don't know how to transfer it into feet or inches, so fuck it). God, I wish you could've seen him. I figured he was chaotic to the bone and living out each day without making plans or worrying about the next day. And he was never rude. I figured he wasn't one of these guys who like making others feel small. That meant a lot to me. He just ignored the people that he wasn't interested in. Unfortunately, I belonged to this category. However, Tim seemed to be so cool and sweet all at once -- just perfect in my eyes... And anything but in my size. How could he ever be interested in someone like me, I thought? As I told you, I was so damn shy and I felt I was more habitual and more boring than probably any other person on the whole crazy planet. And nearly every girl at school fancied him quite obviously. I neither had one of those large Nimrod-glasses and I didn't have a retainer - I used to have one when I was nine years old and I had to wear the goddam thing for more than three horrible years, if you want to know the truth. Don't even mention it to me! But nevertheless, I was no one special. And I felt I didn't look special at all. On the other hand, I didn't think I was looking THAT bad. I've got grey-blue eyes and my hair is straight, dark-blonde and rather short. To this day I like pouring some gel in it and make it look a bit like Tim's hair. So he even influenced the way I'm styling my hair. I swear I'm crazy.
However, I was always in the background. I never seemed to find a way to talk to other people, no matter how nice they seemed to be. And although I always had comments on my mind -- nearly about everything and everyone - I didn't tell anyone about it. My point of view still differs on the contrary of what people think pretty often. No matter what they're talking about. I don't know why. It's no plan or something like that. I just have a different opinion about most things. Maybe that's why I didn't want to tell anyone about it. Most people are so damn ignorant. Man, I bet a psychoanalyst would have earned loads of money trying to therapy my irrational fear of rejection, my self-doubt and my chronicle fear of a relationship! And I didn't even mention the God damn panic attacks I used to have and that I suffered from for nearly two years. God, I hope they'll never come back again. But now I don't feel much like going into it, if you want to know the truth. Stuff like that depresses hell out of me. All I know is that I'd rather hang myself up than going through something like that again or than going to some smartass-shrink. Well, let's say I would hang myself up, if I only had the courage to do it -- and if I had an idea about how this stuff works properly. I'm afraid I won't be able do it right and than I'll end up lying in a coma -- not living and not dead. And known as a person that's even too dumb to commit suicide. Man, when I think about that, I prefer staying alive... And unknown.
I seemed to be just the contrary of Mr. Perfect. Man, how I wished that he knew about my feelings. But how was he supposed to figure out what was in my crazy heart if we didn't even talk to each other? I was just way too unobtrusive. Well, in my dreams I was talking to him, but at school... No way! During the break he was with his two best friends, horsing around and all. And during the lesson he looked like as if his mind was at least 10, 000 light years away. I thought that this was the only thing that we had in common: Daydreaming. I didn't dare to think that he was dreaming of ME. I really didn't. But I'm someone who sits in a state of a daydream pretty often. And I wished that my biggest dream would come real someday.
I wondered if there was a girl he was thinking about. Well, I know that everyone is thinking about stuff all the time, even daydreaming sometimes. But there was this thing about him that felt mysterious -- in a positive way. I felt that he was special, in some way. I swear I'm crazy. But he just didn't seem to fall in line. Well, actually I think no one always does. But he wasn't habitual -- and, what values most for me -- not as ignorant as the rest of the world seemed to be. DOT.
I used to dislike people who are late at school every day or people who never make it on time when meeting a friend or stuff like that. But I never gave a damn when Tim was late. That was different to me. His grades weren't too good, I'll admit that. But they could've been worse. He always found a way not to flunk a subject and he never seemed to cheat. I thought it was kind of amazing. The last thing I want to do is to insult him in any way, and I might be completely wrong, but he never seemed to know too much about anything that we learned at school. The teachers weren't amused about him being late and all, of course. But I didn't like our teachers too much, anyway.
Our class teacher, Mrs. Lang, told me again and again that I shouldn't be so shy. She said I should talk more during the lesson, because my grades were so good and I knew so many things and so on and so on. Fuck. She really got on my nerves. But my class mates weren't any better. They avoided me and only mobbed me. I didn't want to get touchy about this but I couldn't help it. And what worried me most was the fact that they succeeded in making me feel sad. I reckon they didn't even notice my inner state of mind. This kind of people never notice anything. They were sure that I was learning all day long. I figure they thought I was in love with my exercise books. They were morons. Knowing things that nearly no one in class knows doesn't make a brainiac out of me, does it? However, all the teachers seemed to think that I was sort of perfect and my classmates thought I was a geek -- and a loser. And the other boys and girls around my age ignored me. Well, I don't go out quite often. I have to admit that. Sometimes I go to the cinema -- but I think most of the movies nowadays are crap anyway. It seems like a movie can only be famous when there's a lot of gun shot in it, lots of dead people and violence, violence, violence. Man, I hate it. Who needs it anyway?
I wasn't too crazy about going shopping, very unusual to a girl at the age of 17. I only liked it when I was looking for something special -- like a CD or stuff that had something to do with rock music. That's the only thing I really loved -- except Tim, of course. Maybe I was a coach potato and maybe I was even some kind of loser. I still remember this day when it snowed like a madman and the ground was pretty icy and all. I was walking down the steps to the school ground, knowing it would be slippery. What happened next - I reckon you already figured out - I fell to the ground. Right in front of 3 boys around the age of 18. Pissing. Themselves. Laughing. Well, I think I'd have laughed too, when I'd watched someone fall down these stupid steps. But I think in those days, I took everything way too serious. My head blushed like a beetroot - I think that's the thing that it can do best. Then I struggled to my feet and walked away. Quickly. Without looking at them.
However, I never wasted all my time by soaking up knowledge, for Chrissake! Life's too short anyway. I spent much time chatting with different people on the Internet that I don't really know. The trouble about this was: the Internet-fees were one of a million reasons for my parents to complain about me. Man, they got on my nerves so often! Especially my Mom. I don't want to insult any one of my family -- my mother's pretty touchy about being criticized and stuff like that. So that's all I'm gonna tell you about my family. I think if I wrote a book only about my crazy family, it would become about 10 times as big as the goddam bible.
I used to read quite a lot, like Stephen King or Michael Crichton and stuff like that. I think they sort of protected me from reality, like building a land of make-believe. But one day I started to spend my time on taking a look around and see what's going on in the REAL world (the only exception was dreaming of Tim). However, there's a book that I still like a lot. It's called "The Catcher In The Rye." Maybe you know it. Our class used to read only the beginning of it in the German lesson. We quit reading it after a few pages, because no one was too crazy about it, even including me. I figured it would turn out to be boring as hell. But when I read the book in English during my free-time, I changed my mind. This time it killed me. It really did. I sort of fell for the main character, Holden Caulfield. He seems so noble to me and he's so emo and all, but he dislikes most of the adults and doesn't really know where to go or what he wants and all. I can identify with most of his feelings. Anyway, I like reading English books more than German books. German is so sophisticated and I think this language is able to kill even the best story. I figure if my class mates had ever found out about my favorite book, they sure as hell would have thought that I was the biggest fucking geek in the world. Morons.
In those days I felt like the main actor in some dumb, ultra-romantic tearjerker. Falling in love with a prince. Waiting for him to rescue her from the private cell she's locked in. I thought I was cracking up, literally spoken. I still remember the day when I saw Tim for the first time. He said that he and his family had moved from Frankfurt am Main to Maintal, because they had bought a house there. I wasn't that crazy about him that day, I'll admit that. I just thought like "Well, he's good-looking." Nothing more. That was before my mind completely changed.
I think it all started the day when Tim performed a couple of self-written songs during the music lesson. It was the last day at school before Christmas holidays. He brought his acoustic guitar to school and began to play like a pro! God, I wish you could've heard! And his voice killed me. His songs dwelled on my mind for several weeks. I swear they did. I felt he was talented as hell and hoped that he'd become ultra-famous. I knew that he deserved it. You couldn't compare him to the fucking hypocrites whose songs are on the radio and on TV all day long and who earn loads of money, just shaking their ass and all. I hoped that he wouldn't start drinking as much booze as most of the rock stars I heard about (just take a look at Avril Lavigne). And even more important, I hoped that he'd never start doing drugs. I wished him an ultra-long, happy and healthy life. Even in case he'd marry another girl. I really did. God, I loved him so much. I even daydreamed about him writing a song for me... Oh well, I figured that wasn't going to happen before the next ice age. But I kept dreaming of him, also at night. The following nights, I dreamt of him almost the whole night through. I really did. I remember this day when I woke up with tears on my face, sweating like a bastard. God, how I wished that he was by my side. My stereo woke me up and some stupid person on the radio was just saying something about rain in the surrounding of Frankfurt am Main. That was fitting. Tears and rain always go together in some way. I don't know the name of the person who made up the saying "No news is good news," but I think this guy is damn right.
I didn't feel much like going to school (just like every day). However, what I did, I forced myself into a sitting position and wiped the stupid tears from my face. I knew that staying away from school would only cause trouble. And I didn't feel like having even more trouble. Not. Really. So, with a deep sigh and a big yawn, I grabbed the remote control of my stereo and cut the speecher off. Then I just sat in my bed for a while. Man, I began to feel depressed as hell. The pictures of my dream penetrated in my mind again, like raindrops made of memories coming down on me. I felt an awful, piercing pain in my breast and I could hardly breathe. I just sat there, sorta in a daze, and thought of my dream with Tim in it. He and I were standing on top of a mountain, hand in hand, watching the sun go down. We both knew exactly what we felt for each other. Just when Tim was about to hug and kiss me, the stereo must have woken me up. Man, how I hated to get up that early! I figured it would be around 6:15 am. Sighing even deeper than before and unwilling as hell, I struggled to get out of my warm, comfortable bed. I caught a glimpse of the clock for the first time. It said 6:28 am. That shocked the hell out of me. It even made me forget the piercing pain in my breast, for I realized now that more than 10 minutes had gone by while I was sitting in my bed, thinking about Tim. And I had to take the bus at 6:50 am. Damn, that was going to be close today to catch it. So, with a suppressed yell and without turning on the light, I ran out of my room. Whizzing into the bathroom I damn near banged my crazy head against the door. I asked myself who the fuck had closed the stupid bathroom door. It used to be open all day.
However, I got dressed with no time at all (just like every day), not wasting my spare time by using make-up (I never used any, if you want to know the truth) and only spent about 30 seconds on brushing my teeth (but I usually spent more time on it). Then I poured some gel in my hair (like I always do). Without having a breakfast (as usual), I made a point to close the door. By the way, not having a breakfast is just another thorn in the flesh of my parents. In their opinion that's unhealthy as hell. Well, I even think she's right, but I don't feel like eating in the morning anyway. Rushing out of the front door, I missed the door handle and closed the damn thing with a bang. Man, what a moron I was. It sure as hell woke up my parents -- even my dad. And he always slept like a top. I figured my parents would complain about my behavior as soon as I would come home from school. Man, I wasn't looking forward to it. Not really.
You already may have figured what the weather was like -- it was raining. That was one of the rare occasions when the weather report was right. And I was way too lazy to rummage for my umbrella. I figured it would have been just at the bottom of my stupid rucksack. And I wouldn't have had enough time to look for it anyway. So I ran like a maniac, still feeling tired as hell (I figured my sleep hadn't been too tight and I hadn't eaten much last night). Man, what a sight I must have been, trying to run with the stupid, heavy rucksack on my back. I'm not too fit, if you want to know the truth, although I'm not too fat. However, you would have laughed your ass off.
Suddenly I noticed that a bus was driving me by. My bus! Man, my pulse started to speed and I was gasping like the heaviest cigarette-smoker on earth. I haven't ever touched a cigarette in my life, if you want to know the truth. With a deep sigh and a mumbled curse I managed to run even faster to catch the goddam bus. Sopping wet and gasping for air, my tired legs finally arrived at the bus stop, just in time. I was the last passenger that stumbled inside, gasping like a madman (I have no wind at all, I'll admit that) and with my head as red as a beetroot. I started to rummage in my rucksack to find my purse where my ticket was in. I hoped that it was still valid. Man, it seemed to take me ages to find it. Just when I thought that I kept the bus driver from making it on time, I found my stupid ticket. I made a point to show it to the bus driver, like every day. But what he did, he just nodded and said "It's OK." That annoyed the hell out of me. I don't even know why. Maybe he did it because he remembered me and wanted to be nice. However, clumsily, I started to squeeze through the corridor alongside the seats. I started to wonder if it was really that narrow or if I was just too fat. Looking for a seat by a window, I nearly bumped into everybody who was already sitting in the goddam bus. In the end I found two empty seats what was pretty unusual. I sat down next to the window, squeezed all of my stuff back into the rucksack and packed it under my seat so that another person would be able to sit next to me. I would have preferred to call two seats my own, but I didn't want to be rude. Maybe I'm just idealistic to the bone. All I know is that it keeps people from disturbing me by begging for a seat while I'm daydreaming.
After about half an hour the bus arrived in Hanau. Man, how I hated squeezing through all the people to get out. When I was finally out of the stuffy bus, I glanced at my watch. There was more than half an hour left until the beginning of the first lesson. The bus must have arrived on time that day. That's rather unusual. That only seems to happen when I get up late as hell, so that I have to hurry like a madman. Stupid bus. Only half-awake, I started my daily walk to school. It took me about 15 minutes to get there starting at the bus stop, if I didn't take the short cut that lead over a playground. But it was now pouring with rain and I figured that the ground on the shortcut would be pretty muddy. As I didn't feel like getting dirty as a pig, I took the long path. Man, it was raining like a madman. I didn't like going to school anyway, for the reasons I already told you about. The only thing that made it worth to appear there was to see Tim's precious face. But that day I felt way too depressed to even hope that I would turn the tide and talk to him -- or even more. You have to be in the right mood for things like that. Goddam rain. It always depresses the hell out of me. Walking slowly, I sorta watched my feet moving. I didn't know what time it was, but I was sure it was still pretty early. Other pupils passed me by, looking nearly as bored and unwilling like me. Just like every day. Man, stuff like that makes me feel so depressed. I can't stand the days being all the same. It makes me blue as hell.
Suddenly something unforeseeable happened. I hadn't noticed that the school bus had been driving by. I suddenly saw it appearing beside me, when I had just reached the bus stop. The doors opened and a familiar face came in sight. A very good-looking face with black hair, green eyes and a bit a tired look on his face. Tim. I was so shocked, I could hardly think about anything. Holy shit, I literally bumped into him! I figure I would have taken a different path if I had seen him in time. I wished anything else to happen; I just didn't want to be recognized. But it was too late, because I had already bumped into him. Well, of course I could have walked away, mumbling an excuse. I also could have walked away without a single word. But I thought that would have ruined what was left of my dignity. So I didn't walk away. What I did, I just stared at him for quite some time -- my stupid, tired head blushing red as usual. Fuck. I hated that! I must have looked like the biggest moron you've probably ever seen. I couldn't think straight. I swear I couldn't.
And then I heard him say "Hi." To ME. With. That. Irresistible. Sweet. Smile. On. His. Awesome-looking-face. What happened next, I heard myself say "Hello." I felt kinda floating in the air and I was afraid that he hadn't heard me again. I was nearly sure that he'd leave me talking to myself. But what happened next, he asked me "How are you?" God, I felt like fainting. I swear I did. "Kinda nasty weather today, huh?" he said. He looked at me as if he wanted to say something like "Don't you have an umbrella?" Well, that's what my parents would have said. I figure it was only in my imagination. He'd never think something like that. He wasn't like that. I had been way too depressed to care about the rain physically, but now I did. I realized that I must have been a terrible sight. I was all drenched, in every respect. Why did he have to notice me just when I looked the worst? I was nearly getting kinda mad. Why the hell hadn't I gotten my stupid umbrella? I always carried it with me but I never felt like using it. I don't know why. Maybe I was just too damn lazy -- or too depressed. The funny thing is, I used to give a damn about what I looked like. But not this day. Now that the one that I adored was standing right in front of me, that was damn embarrassing.
-To be continued-
The things I'm gonna tell you about happened like 3 years ago. In those days I went to a school called "Kaufmännische Schulen I" (English = something like: "Commercial Schools I") in Hanau. That's near Frankfurt, Germany, in case you want to know. I think nearly everybody goes through some phase at least for once in his or her life. But I used to be pretty insignificant. I really was. Sometimes it even happened that people stood on my foot and they didn't notice at all. And I was too shy to tell them.
In those days I was crazy for a boy - Tim Kurzweiler. God, every day I wished that I could tell him how much he meant to me! But every time I saw his face, I had my crazy heart in my boots. I just couldn't manage to open my stupid mouth. Every time he came in sight, my brains seemed to explode. On these rare occasions when Tim was looking my direction, catching a glimpse of me, I blushed immediately. Man, my head must have looked like a tomato. My pulse seemed to go triple as fast as it was supposed to and I thought I was damn close to a heart attack. And then I quickly looked away. That's how it used to be, every day I saw him at school. One day I at least managed to bear his ultra-cool gaze for about one-second. I even said "Hello" (well, I'm sure it sounded like a whisper). I got no reply. It was likely that he hadn't even heard me. I figure I should have used a megaphone to make it possible for him to hear a single tone.
Man, his green eyes killed me. I thought of Tim all the time. Day by day. Minute by minute. He freaked me out, literally spoken. Especially his amazing, mischievous I-Do-What-I-Want-Smile, surrounding the corners of his perfect mouth. And his hair... Deep black and all over the place, like as if he just got up. He wasn't too tall for a boy, only about 1, 70 m (I think it's like Billie Joe's height, but I don't know how to transfer it into feet or inches, so fuck it). God, I wish you could've seen him. I figured he was chaotic to the bone and living out each day without making plans or worrying about the next day. And he was never rude. I figured he wasn't one of these guys who like making others feel small. That meant a lot to me. He just ignored the people that he wasn't interested in. Unfortunately, I belonged to this category. However, Tim seemed to be so cool and sweet all at once -- just perfect in my eyes... And anything but in my size. How could he ever be interested in someone like me, I thought? As I told you, I was so damn shy and I felt I was more habitual and more boring than probably any other person on the whole crazy planet. And nearly every girl at school fancied him quite obviously. I neither had one of those large Nimrod-glasses and I didn't have a retainer - I used to have one when I was nine years old and I had to wear the goddam thing for more than three horrible years, if you want to know the truth. Don't even mention it to me! But nevertheless, I was no one special. And I felt I didn't look special at all. On the other hand, I didn't think I was looking THAT bad. I've got grey-blue eyes and my hair is straight, dark-blonde and rather short. To this day I like pouring some gel in it and make it look a bit like Tim's hair. So he even influenced the way I'm styling my hair. I swear I'm crazy.
However, I was always in the background. I never seemed to find a way to talk to other people, no matter how nice they seemed to be. And although I always had comments on my mind -- nearly about everything and everyone - I didn't tell anyone about it. My point of view still differs on the contrary of what people think pretty often. No matter what they're talking about. I don't know why. It's no plan or something like that. I just have a different opinion about most things. Maybe that's why I didn't want to tell anyone about it. Most people are so damn ignorant. Man, I bet a psychoanalyst would have earned loads of money trying to therapy my irrational fear of rejection, my self-doubt and my chronicle fear of a relationship! And I didn't even mention the God damn panic attacks I used to have and that I suffered from for nearly two years. God, I hope they'll never come back again. But now I don't feel much like going into it, if you want to know the truth. Stuff like that depresses hell out of me. All I know is that I'd rather hang myself up than going through something like that again or than going to some smartass-shrink. Well, let's say I would hang myself up, if I only had the courage to do it -- and if I had an idea about how this stuff works properly. I'm afraid I won't be able do it right and than I'll end up lying in a coma -- not living and not dead. And known as a person that's even too dumb to commit suicide. Man, when I think about that, I prefer staying alive... And unknown.
I seemed to be just the contrary of Mr. Perfect. Man, how I wished that he knew about my feelings. But how was he supposed to figure out what was in my crazy heart if we didn't even talk to each other? I was just way too unobtrusive. Well, in my dreams I was talking to him, but at school... No way! During the break he was with his two best friends, horsing around and all. And during the lesson he looked like as if his mind was at least 10, 000 light years away. I thought that this was the only thing that we had in common: Daydreaming. I didn't dare to think that he was dreaming of ME. I really didn't. But I'm someone who sits in a state of a daydream pretty often. And I wished that my biggest dream would come real someday.
I wondered if there was a girl he was thinking about. Well, I know that everyone is thinking about stuff all the time, even daydreaming sometimes. But there was this thing about him that felt mysterious -- in a positive way. I felt that he was special, in some way. I swear I'm crazy. But he just didn't seem to fall in line. Well, actually I think no one always does. But he wasn't habitual -- and, what values most for me -- not as ignorant as the rest of the world seemed to be. DOT.
I used to dislike people who are late at school every day or people who never make it on time when meeting a friend or stuff like that. But I never gave a damn when Tim was late. That was different to me. His grades weren't too good, I'll admit that. But they could've been worse. He always found a way not to flunk a subject and he never seemed to cheat. I thought it was kind of amazing. The last thing I want to do is to insult him in any way, and I might be completely wrong, but he never seemed to know too much about anything that we learned at school. The teachers weren't amused about him being late and all, of course. But I didn't like our teachers too much, anyway.
Our class teacher, Mrs. Lang, told me again and again that I shouldn't be so shy. She said I should talk more during the lesson, because my grades were so good and I knew so many things and so on and so on. Fuck. She really got on my nerves. But my class mates weren't any better. They avoided me and only mobbed me. I didn't want to get touchy about this but I couldn't help it. And what worried me most was the fact that they succeeded in making me feel sad. I reckon they didn't even notice my inner state of mind. This kind of people never notice anything. They were sure that I was learning all day long. I figure they thought I was in love with my exercise books. They were morons. Knowing things that nearly no one in class knows doesn't make a brainiac out of me, does it? However, all the teachers seemed to think that I was sort of perfect and my classmates thought I was a geek -- and a loser. And the other boys and girls around my age ignored me. Well, I don't go out quite often. I have to admit that. Sometimes I go to the cinema -- but I think most of the movies nowadays are crap anyway. It seems like a movie can only be famous when there's a lot of gun shot in it, lots of dead people and violence, violence, violence. Man, I hate it. Who needs it anyway?
I wasn't too crazy about going shopping, very unusual to a girl at the age of 17. I only liked it when I was looking for something special -- like a CD or stuff that had something to do with rock music. That's the only thing I really loved -- except Tim, of course. Maybe I was a coach potato and maybe I was even some kind of loser. I still remember this day when it snowed like a madman and the ground was pretty icy and all. I was walking down the steps to the school ground, knowing it would be slippery. What happened next - I reckon you already figured out - I fell to the ground. Right in front of 3 boys around the age of 18. Pissing. Themselves. Laughing. Well, I think I'd have laughed too, when I'd watched someone fall down these stupid steps. But I think in those days, I took everything way too serious. My head blushed like a beetroot - I think that's the thing that it can do best. Then I struggled to my feet and walked away. Quickly. Without looking at them.
However, I never wasted all my time by soaking up knowledge, for Chrissake! Life's too short anyway. I spent much time chatting with different people on the Internet that I don't really know. The trouble about this was: the Internet-fees were one of a million reasons for my parents to complain about me. Man, they got on my nerves so often! Especially my Mom. I don't want to insult any one of my family -- my mother's pretty touchy about being criticized and stuff like that. So that's all I'm gonna tell you about my family. I think if I wrote a book only about my crazy family, it would become about 10 times as big as the goddam bible.
I used to read quite a lot, like Stephen King or Michael Crichton and stuff like that. I think they sort of protected me from reality, like building a land of make-believe. But one day I started to spend my time on taking a look around and see what's going on in the REAL world (the only exception was dreaming of Tim). However, there's a book that I still like a lot. It's called "The Catcher In The Rye." Maybe you know it. Our class used to read only the beginning of it in the German lesson. We quit reading it after a few pages, because no one was too crazy about it, even including me. I figured it would turn out to be boring as hell. But when I read the book in English during my free-time, I changed my mind. This time it killed me. It really did. I sort of fell for the main character, Holden Caulfield. He seems so noble to me and he's so emo and all, but he dislikes most of the adults and doesn't really know where to go or what he wants and all. I can identify with most of his feelings. Anyway, I like reading English books more than German books. German is so sophisticated and I think this language is able to kill even the best story. I figure if my class mates had ever found out about my favorite book, they sure as hell would have thought that I was the biggest fucking geek in the world. Morons.
In those days I felt like the main actor in some dumb, ultra-romantic tearjerker. Falling in love with a prince. Waiting for him to rescue her from the private cell she's locked in. I thought I was cracking up, literally spoken. I still remember the day when I saw Tim for the first time. He said that he and his family had moved from Frankfurt am Main to Maintal, because they had bought a house there. I wasn't that crazy about him that day, I'll admit that. I just thought like "Well, he's good-looking." Nothing more. That was before my mind completely changed.
I think it all started the day when Tim performed a couple of self-written songs during the music lesson. It was the last day at school before Christmas holidays. He brought his acoustic guitar to school and began to play like a pro! God, I wish you could've heard! And his voice killed me. His songs dwelled on my mind for several weeks. I swear they did. I felt he was talented as hell and hoped that he'd become ultra-famous. I knew that he deserved it. You couldn't compare him to the fucking hypocrites whose songs are on the radio and on TV all day long and who earn loads of money, just shaking their ass and all. I hoped that he wouldn't start drinking as much booze as most of the rock stars I heard about (just take a look at Avril Lavigne). And even more important, I hoped that he'd never start doing drugs. I wished him an ultra-long, happy and healthy life. Even in case he'd marry another girl. I really did. God, I loved him so much. I even daydreamed about him writing a song for me... Oh well, I figured that wasn't going to happen before the next ice age. But I kept dreaming of him, also at night. The following nights, I dreamt of him almost the whole night through. I really did. I remember this day when I woke up with tears on my face, sweating like a bastard. God, how I wished that he was by my side. My stereo woke me up and some stupid person on the radio was just saying something about rain in the surrounding of Frankfurt am Main. That was fitting. Tears and rain always go together in some way. I don't know the name of the person who made up the saying "No news is good news," but I think this guy is damn right.
I didn't feel much like going to school (just like every day). However, what I did, I forced myself into a sitting position and wiped the stupid tears from my face. I knew that staying away from school would only cause trouble. And I didn't feel like having even more trouble. Not. Really. So, with a deep sigh and a big yawn, I grabbed the remote control of my stereo and cut the speecher off. Then I just sat in my bed for a while. Man, I began to feel depressed as hell. The pictures of my dream penetrated in my mind again, like raindrops made of memories coming down on me. I felt an awful, piercing pain in my breast and I could hardly breathe. I just sat there, sorta in a daze, and thought of my dream with Tim in it. He and I were standing on top of a mountain, hand in hand, watching the sun go down. We both knew exactly what we felt for each other. Just when Tim was about to hug and kiss me, the stereo must have woken me up. Man, how I hated to get up that early! I figured it would be around 6:15 am. Sighing even deeper than before and unwilling as hell, I struggled to get out of my warm, comfortable bed. I caught a glimpse of the clock for the first time. It said 6:28 am. That shocked the hell out of me. It even made me forget the piercing pain in my breast, for I realized now that more than 10 minutes had gone by while I was sitting in my bed, thinking about Tim. And I had to take the bus at 6:50 am. Damn, that was going to be close today to catch it. So, with a suppressed yell and without turning on the light, I ran out of my room. Whizzing into the bathroom I damn near banged my crazy head against the door. I asked myself who the fuck had closed the stupid bathroom door. It used to be open all day.
However, I got dressed with no time at all (just like every day), not wasting my spare time by using make-up (I never used any, if you want to know the truth) and only spent about 30 seconds on brushing my teeth (but I usually spent more time on it). Then I poured some gel in my hair (like I always do). Without having a breakfast (as usual), I made a point to close the door. By the way, not having a breakfast is just another thorn in the flesh of my parents. In their opinion that's unhealthy as hell. Well, I even think she's right, but I don't feel like eating in the morning anyway. Rushing out of the front door, I missed the door handle and closed the damn thing with a bang. Man, what a moron I was. It sure as hell woke up my parents -- even my dad. And he always slept like a top. I figured my parents would complain about my behavior as soon as I would come home from school. Man, I wasn't looking forward to it. Not really.
You already may have figured what the weather was like -- it was raining. That was one of the rare occasions when the weather report was right. And I was way too lazy to rummage for my umbrella. I figured it would have been just at the bottom of my stupid rucksack. And I wouldn't have had enough time to look for it anyway. So I ran like a maniac, still feeling tired as hell (I figured my sleep hadn't been too tight and I hadn't eaten much last night). Man, what a sight I must have been, trying to run with the stupid, heavy rucksack on my back. I'm not too fit, if you want to know the truth, although I'm not too fat. However, you would have laughed your ass off.
Suddenly I noticed that a bus was driving me by. My bus! Man, my pulse started to speed and I was gasping like the heaviest cigarette-smoker on earth. I haven't ever touched a cigarette in my life, if you want to know the truth. With a deep sigh and a mumbled curse I managed to run even faster to catch the goddam bus. Sopping wet and gasping for air, my tired legs finally arrived at the bus stop, just in time. I was the last passenger that stumbled inside, gasping like a madman (I have no wind at all, I'll admit that) and with my head as red as a beetroot. I started to rummage in my rucksack to find my purse where my ticket was in. I hoped that it was still valid. Man, it seemed to take me ages to find it. Just when I thought that I kept the bus driver from making it on time, I found my stupid ticket. I made a point to show it to the bus driver, like every day. But what he did, he just nodded and said "It's OK." That annoyed the hell out of me. I don't even know why. Maybe he did it because he remembered me and wanted to be nice. However, clumsily, I started to squeeze through the corridor alongside the seats. I started to wonder if it was really that narrow or if I was just too fat. Looking for a seat by a window, I nearly bumped into everybody who was already sitting in the goddam bus. In the end I found two empty seats what was pretty unusual. I sat down next to the window, squeezed all of my stuff back into the rucksack and packed it under my seat so that another person would be able to sit next to me. I would have preferred to call two seats my own, but I didn't want to be rude. Maybe I'm just idealistic to the bone. All I know is that it keeps people from disturbing me by begging for a seat while I'm daydreaming.
After about half an hour the bus arrived in Hanau. Man, how I hated squeezing through all the people to get out. When I was finally out of the stuffy bus, I glanced at my watch. There was more than half an hour left until the beginning of the first lesson. The bus must have arrived on time that day. That's rather unusual. That only seems to happen when I get up late as hell, so that I have to hurry like a madman. Stupid bus. Only half-awake, I started my daily walk to school. It took me about 15 minutes to get there starting at the bus stop, if I didn't take the short cut that lead over a playground. But it was now pouring with rain and I figured that the ground on the shortcut would be pretty muddy. As I didn't feel like getting dirty as a pig, I took the long path. Man, it was raining like a madman. I didn't like going to school anyway, for the reasons I already told you about. The only thing that made it worth to appear there was to see Tim's precious face. But that day I felt way too depressed to even hope that I would turn the tide and talk to him -- or even more. You have to be in the right mood for things like that. Goddam rain. It always depresses the hell out of me. Walking slowly, I sorta watched my feet moving. I didn't know what time it was, but I was sure it was still pretty early. Other pupils passed me by, looking nearly as bored and unwilling like me. Just like every day. Man, stuff like that makes me feel so depressed. I can't stand the days being all the same. It makes me blue as hell.
Suddenly something unforeseeable happened. I hadn't noticed that the school bus had been driving by. I suddenly saw it appearing beside me, when I had just reached the bus stop. The doors opened and a familiar face came in sight. A very good-looking face with black hair, green eyes and a bit a tired look on his face. Tim. I was so shocked, I could hardly think about anything. Holy shit, I literally bumped into him! I figure I would have taken a different path if I had seen him in time. I wished anything else to happen; I just didn't want to be recognized. But it was too late, because I had already bumped into him. Well, of course I could have walked away, mumbling an excuse. I also could have walked away without a single word. But I thought that would have ruined what was left of my dignity. So I didn't walk away. What I did, I just stared at him for quite some time -- my stupid, tired head blushing red as usual. Fuck. I hated that! I must have looked like the biggest moron you've probably ever seen. I couldn't think straight. I swear I couldn't.
And then I heard him say "Hi." To ME. With. That. Irresistible. Sweet. Smile. On. His. Awesome-looking-face. What happened next, I heard myself say "Hello." I felt kinda floating in the air and I was afraid that he hadn't heard me again. I was nearly sure that he'd leave me talking to myself. But what happened next, he asked me "How are you?" God, I felt like fainting. I swear I did. "Kinda nasty weather today, huh?" he said. He looked at me as if he wanted to say something like "Don't you have an umbrella?" Well, that's what my parents would have said. I figure it was only in my imagination. He'd never think something like that. He wasn't like that. I had been way too depressed to care about the rain physically, but now I did. I realized that I must have been a terrible sight. I was all drenched, in every respect. Why did he have to notice me just when I looked the worst? I was nearly getting kinda mad. Why the hell hadn't I gotten my stupid umbrella? I always carried it with me but I never felt like using it. I don't know why. Maybe I was just too damn lazy -- or too depressed. The funny thing is, I used to give a damn about what I looked like. But not this day. Now that the one that I adored was standing right in front of me, that was damn embarrassing.
-To be continued-
Page 1/2 | Next
