Chapter 4 Electric Love

The first thing I did as soon as I entered my room was to take out my journal from my bag-pack. I started writing down everything, the encounter with Raymond, our small talk, what happened at the gym, everything. I always carry my journal, it has been a habit of mine to write down the parts which I really want to forget from my life.

My dad once told me that it is the best way to ease the pain, to write it all down and never read it again. It is like having a secret friend who no one knows about. Tell the journal everything, what you feel, the pain you're going through and never read it again. It really helps.

Most of the people have their best friends to share such things with, to share every bits and pieces of their problems and pains and not to get judged upon. Unfortunately, I didn't have a best friend, at least not when I needed the most. Most of my High School, I was the kid "populars" used to pick on. I had to survive somehow, right? So, I started writing it all down in the journal.

Guess what? Dad was right. It eases the sorrow. That's the story of 'how I survived the hideous years of my High School'.

*flashback*

"What's that?",he said stumbling through the bed as he reached out to grab the pale green diary lying on my study table. I haven't written in it for a while now. I write in my journal whenever I feel low or need someone to talk to. No one knows about my journal, not even my mom. I usually keep it inside my bag-pack. I don't even remember how it ended up lying on my desk.

I jumped from the bed to get the diary before Raymond does but he beats me to it.

"No! Give it back to me Ray", I bawled. While trying to snatch it back from him but obviously he was taller than me. I tried once again but the diary was in his hand, far away from my reach. We both stood on the floor now, and I gave a last attempt at getting my diary back. So I jumped with some more force this time and ended up banging my head to his chin, and we both fell down on my bed.

He was sprawled on my bed while me on him. I was still determined to get my journal back, I knew strength wouldn't ace with him. So I looked right into his eyes, while my right hand made its way to his nape and I mouthed 'please'.

His eyes softened. I knew this would work, I knew he respects me too much, he would never read my diary without my consent. He sighed in defeat.

"Alright, but you have to tell me what is in this? Okay?", he asked gently.

"Okay", I mumbled in an undertone.

I had never told anyone about my journal. Well, truth to be told I never had anyone by my side to tell them about the journal. The another reason I wanted no one to know about the journal was because I was afraid that someone might steal it and reveal my entries to everyone. As I said, I was the kid they used to pick on. It would just make it more 'fun' for them to steal someone's personal diary and read it out loud in the cafeteria.

Oh, it has happened in the past. Cliché isn't it? Is is so necessary for every High School to follow these stereotypes? Why can't everyone, for once, mind their own business and live like that.

John Cranwood, he was just another victim of High School bullying. Thin, lanky, tall with shoulder length blond hairs, always carried a skateboard with him.

The Populars used to bully him a lot. I think he used to write it all down in a journal as well. Maybe he knew the mantra of surviving through this shit too. This one day, I remember sitting in the library in my free period when I heard the sound of someone sobbing from behind the shelf. That was when I last saw him, crying in the library. Later I got to know that was the day Jake Anderson read out his journal to the whole school in cafeteria. He changed the school after that incident.

It's hard to fit in this society. They only accept what is already categorized. Jocks, the populars, the cheerleading squad, the music group, the nerds, they're all categorized and that's what society accepts. It is like they refrain from any kind of change.

We were both sitting on my bed, legs crossed, face to face. I took a deep breath before telling him about the journal. I never thought I'd ever tell anyone about this.

"So, you keep a journal?'", he asked.

"Yeah, I do. It's not exactly a journal, I just write down whatever I'm feeling in this, mostly the pain. It helps me go through the gloomy days", I replied.

"Gloomy days? Seriously?", he said exasperated.

"Yes. It's hard to survive High School when you don't even have a friend to eat lunch with", I howled.

I knew it was futile to explain this to him. He has always had friends, he doesn't know how it feels to be a loner. He never will.

He held my hands in a tighter grip, he bought them closer to his lips and placed a light kiss on them. His lips brushed like feather on my fingers.

"Look at me", he commanded.

I lift up my chin and gazed at him.

"You don't have to keep a journal anymore. I will be your journal, alright?"he promised me. That was the time I knew I could tell him anything. What I feel, what I think, everything.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. His eyes were gently trying to tell me that he will always keep his words. He made me fell in love with him more and more every day. He was breaking my walls way too easily.

I moved forward and sat on his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist. My hands made their way into his hairs while I placed a kiss on his lips. I always loved our slow kisses, his gentle touch, the way his hands hold me with the tenderness while kissing or the way they roam on my back. I love everything when we are together. I love us.

*flashback over*

A tear rolled down my eye, I didn't notice it until it fell on my journal and mixed with the ink to leave a spot on the page. It is not the first time I cried writing my journal. This memory of us hits me every time I write the journal but some of the days I'm strong enough to fight it and let it all down in the diary.

He promised me that he will be my journal. He had promised me that I never have to write a journal again.

Yet we are here.