Boots | Teen Ink

Boots

April 11, 2014
By Anonymous

He had brown hair and green eyes and braces. The braces should have been a huge turn-off, but for some reason, they aren't. They were barely even noticeable, no matter how much they clashed with his grunge/rock band shirts, dark skinny jeans, and zip-up boots that were like the flames of Hell flicking up to scorch all of our faces.
He had a perfect nose and a widow’s peak that was only apparent if he reached up and smoothed back the overhanging strands of hair from his forehead. He would on occasion, and then let the strands flop back into place just like a book would always fall open to that one page you constantly read to find your favorite quote. Well, everything he says is your favorite quote, his words and phrases swirling around you in a delicious frenzy to the beat of his voice… oh, his voice. It was one of those intangible somethings that you either loved, or pretended not to.
He didn’t smile much if you saw him walking to class, or listening to music tucked away in a distant corner of the universe, or secretly watching his favorite show in the middle of a biology lecture. But he would smile as he talked to you, and if you were lucky enough (or maybe just entertaining enough), he’d laugh.
My God, his entire being would transform when he laughed. He looked so happy, his whole face alight with the kind of happiness that your heart aches for in the middle of the night when no one else is around; the kind of happiness that you can wish so hard for but can’t achieve; the happiness that suddenly is completely centered around him, around this one boy and his beautiful smile. Then, his eyes will light up. You thought they were the greenest they could be, but no, they’re suddenly so green you aren’t even sure if you’ve ever actually seen the color green until that moment. Emerald green, pine green, jade green – these all don’t exist. The only green that exists (the only green that matters) is this green right here. This green, that looks soft enough to be a fur blanket in the cold winter; this green that turns a shimmery silver when surrounded by the bright light of outside; this green.
And he’ll break you. He’ll break you like a piece of porcelain crinkling under an absentminded foot that didn’t see the carnage. He’ll break you as he chases after the pretty girls, the ones who laugh loudly and wear eyeliner every day. He’ll break you as he slips by you in the halls without looking in your direction, like you’re a wispy sliver of smoke instead of a solid human being. He’ll break you as you feel him slowly start to forget about you, as you become less and less of a person as he cares less and less each day. You’ll hate yourself, so much that you can’t eat or sleep or smile or live. You’ll hate yourself for not being good enough for him. Your whole galaxy may be shredding, tearing at the seams and internally combusting, as he walks past you in the halls without smiling like he always does, but he won’t notice.
He’ll just zip up his boots like it’s just another day.


The author's comments:
Stay away while you can

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