Chapter Four: God heals the broken
It was about time. A week or so had passed and I had waited anxiously for this moment in my life. I stared outside the car window at the bustling streets of California. Cars whizzed past us. I was sweating like a pig and my heart thudded loudly in my chest.
“I'm scared.” I whispered to my mom.
“Sweetie, you'll do fine.” My mom said, patting my knee.
“I don't think this was such a good idea.” I stated.
“No backing out now.” Mom said, wagging a finger at me. I crossed my arms and sank down in my seat.
“What if they hate me?” I asked.
“They won't hate you.” My mom said, giving me a look.
“Everyone else does.” I muttered.
“Sam, if you're gonna go in with that kind of attitude-” She began.
“You're right, you're right. I can do this. I will do this.” I said with a deep breathe. The car ride was seemed like a lingering, tortuous eternity. Finally, the car came to a halt. I inhaled deeply before slowly sliding out of the car. There were cars absolutely everywhere I looked. The parking lot was jammed full of them. I swallowed hard and looked at all the gorgeous girls lining up. I refused to make eye contact with any of them. If I even thought they may glance at me, my head shot down. I was so intimidated and had never felt so small in my life. I didn't fit in here. That was for sure. My clothes were raggedy and saggy. Everyone else had tightly fitted jeans and flawless skin. I rubbed at the bit of acne on the side of my face and sighed.
“This was a bad idea.” I whispered. Their stares seemed to penetrate into me. The line was enormous. I was swimming in a sea of people. I honestly had never before encountered this amount of nervousness. My heart was beating like a drum and thudding so loudly inside of my chest that I swore everyone present could hear it. Sweat was pouring off my body and the butterflies in my stomach wouldn't depart no matter how much I begged them to. I felt sick to my stomach as I looked around. I wiped the perspiration from my forehead. My hands began to shake visibly and my entire body was trembling. I felt paralyzed. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want anyone to talk to me. I honestly could hardly breathe.
“Dear God, calm my nerves.” I whispered, looking up. It was a very simple prayer, but from the bottom of my heart I meant it. I took in slow, deep breathes.
The line was massive. Other teens pulled out their phones and began texting to pass the time. I was tempted to do the same thing, but I stopped myself. The tips of my fingers froze inside my pocket.
I dropped my phone back deep inside my pocket. I let out a heavy sigh. For a moment there, I actually forgot who I was. I forgot that if I dared to look on that phone that I knew exactly what I would see. I'd see a whole lot of repulsive things about myself that I knew my heart couldn't possibly bare... especially not at this moment. It saddened me that I couldn't even get on my phone like normal kids could. It was that bad. I drummed my fingers on the outline of my phone, deep inside my pocket. The line was ever so slowly inching forward. I hated to wait. This line was like my own little personal torture chamber. I tried to take my mind off things by watching cars stroll by. No good. I put my headphones in my ears and tried to distract myself with a little music. I nodded by head to the beat of the music and before I knew it I was completely lost in it and had tuned out everything around me. I had a tendency to do that with any kind of music. I always got lost in the melody, even when I was a little kid. That's why I knew that I was born to do this. I was born to play. The music slowly faded into nothing and the song came to an end. The line seemed to be moving much faster now. I let my eyes wander a little farther into the line just to get a little bit of an idea what I was I was up against. There was a beautiful skinny blonde figure ahead of me with nice long legs, tan skin, crystal blue eyes, and a pearly white smile. She ran a dainty hand through her straight, silky hair. Her blonde locks rested on her back perfectly and complimented her flawless complexion. She looked like something off a vogue magazine. Boys were absolutely flocking her. I often wondered what it would be like to be one of those pretty girl that all the boys seemed to like... to be perfect. I was far from it though. The boys in my school hated me and that was that. I was seventeen and had never kissed a boy, never been on a date, and never even really held a boy's hand before.
Don't get in me wrong. I am in absolutely and no way saying the physical part of a relationship is at all important, ya hear me? I actually much prefer emotional sentiment like a sweet card, a 'good night' text, or just an 'I love you' before you go out the door. I think that's much better and my opinion is very different from most girls in that matter. I'm just saying most times things like that lead to a relationship and I had not been given any signs from any boy that I had ever met that they were in the least interested in me. It was especially awkward when girls at my school would go on and on about their sweet boyfriends as I sat there uncomfortably and listened. Part of me thought that they did it on purpose. They would often ask,
“Oh so how's your man, Sam?” With a little smirk.
“I don't have a boyfriend.” I would usually say timidly.
“Oh, that's just too bad.” They'd reply with a little giggle.
“You'll find someone some day.” They'd sneer. I was never angry at that though. Despite the way they said it I would try my very hardest to take it as encouragement best I could. Wouldn't it be lovely though? Oh, how lovely it would be to be loved. I sighed just at the word. I was the kind of girl who could spend her entire life watching rom-coms, but could never be brave enough to try it. Love... I could never try love. This old heart was much too cold to be loved anyway. I hated everyone and everything. I hated my brother for leaving, I hated my classmates for treating me horribly, I hated my “friends” for betraying me, and most of all I hated myself... for even being here.
I couldn't help but flash back one more time. It was P.E. I always got picked last. I remembered sitting there miserably as they called out teams. It really stunk that I always seemed to be the leftover that got assigned a team. Even then, the kids who got me on their team would groan when I walked shyly over to them. The only time I ever got picked even somewhat close to first was when Angela was team captain. That just showed how much of a good friends she was to me... it was really embarrassing picking a looser like me to be on your team. I didn't apply myself at all whatsoever in any of the games we played. When we played volleyball I shied away from the ball.
''GOSH! JUST HIT THE BALL YOU STINKIN' IDIOT!” They'd cry. I'd just look down awkwardly and try to pretend like I didn't hear them. They looked at me with such passionate rage and hatred. It seriously got to where I struggled with even looking at someone in the eye because I recognized the look of pure despise that lingered inside their eyes. My eyes stung with tears as I recalled the painful memory. I'd sit in P.E. staring miserably at the clock and questioning Angela what time it was. I wanted out of this prison. I was sick and tired of being left out, hated, stuck at the back of the line, and picked last. I also hated seeing my athletic, beautiful, smart, and bubbly friends shining bright while I was left in the back unnoticed. I just didn't get why I was hated so much. I mean... I was honestly practically one of the only people in the school dealing with this.
Everyone else here seemed to have a rightful place, friends they could call their own, and a fair amount of popularity. What was so wrong with me? I mean... seriously. Was I ugly? Am I fat? Am I mean? Am I annoying? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS? I ran my hands through my red hair and tugged at it a little in frustration.
“What's so wrong with me?” I whispered bitterly. The memories seared into my mind like a hot fire. Maybe I was just awkward... maybe that's why everyone hated me. But even then couldn't I at least find some awkward friends to hang around? Even the nerds hated me. I miss doing whatever made me happy wheneve
r I wanted to do it. I just wish I could flash back to that time when nobody had ever hurt me, or burned me, or left me out. Back when life was just a little playground and I was just another little girl playing this fun little game of life on it. Now life seemed a little more like a battlefield. You had to fight for the ones you loved and if you didn't they left you. If you weren't a warrior sustainable to the fatal blows of your enemies you made it absolutely nowhere in your life. There were many times when I laid in my bed and screamed 'why' to God. But He just didn't seem to be listening to any of my prayers recently. As much as I begged him to stop this sick madness the pain continued. It was like a fire burning inside me and I just wish someone or something would come along and try and extinguish it. It just... hurt. I just wanted to be wanted.