I am not crazy. Am I?


1. I am not crazy.

As I was unpacking my bags I realised this was it. This is my last moment. My last chance to sit on the carpet, my last chance to look outside the window and wave at that strange women outside, my last chance to fall on the bed and laugh spontaneously. To be frank, my last chance to do anything that felt like home.

But still I pack.

I put books and clothes, shoes and hats, pens and chargers. If there are so many things and if the suitcase is as huge and I can barely close the zipper, then why does it feel like this time has gone so quckly. Packing has gone so quickly. My last chance has gone so quickly.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes." that single word pierces me. I just lied. Me - the girl who always is supposed to say the truth. I guess when your loved ones die you change. You become the opposite of what you are for some unknown reason.

"We are leaving now, love ... I mean Emma"

"It's ok Ryan, you don't need to pretend to be that guy."

"I wanna be that guy."

"You can't. You simply aren't able to, because that's just not you"

"If you say so."

"Can you please stop! I don't need you to act like that sensitive, romantic dude who just so happens to know what to say at the right time! You might be my boyfriend, but we are not in a lame teen movie. This is real life and it sucks! So can you please stop acting like those lame people cause I am not one of those girls and this can't be fixed with a stupid song or romantic gesture or a dumn line."

I can see the tears building in his eyes, but c'mon - he deserves this. Does he think I'm stupid? Like I wouldn't figure out this is just his pointless attempt at doing the right thing. Cause he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't have that phycho ability movie boys seem to pocess.

"Here you are children. The car is waiting" his dad came. Luckily for Ryan. And for me. I don't know if I can keep seeing his stare any longer. Plus, his dad doesn't really try to be one of those fathers, he just gets straight to bussiness. As he is supposed to.

After a short car ride they finally arrive at Emma's new home.

Me and Ryan are sitting in the car while his parents are unloading all of my stuff. Shouldn't take long, the stuff doesn't really begin to describe everything that happened in the past sixteen years of my life.

I am staring out the window, but I can feel Ryan staring at me. I can also feel his hand next to me. Although feel is not the proper word since he isn't actually touching me his hand just happens to be 0. 0067mm from mine. Seriously man? Like if you touch me I am going to explode into five hundred pieces.

"Emma ... I ummm ... I'll ask my dad to put your stuff upstairs"

"You don't need to do that. I can ask him myself, thank you." I don't even try to smile. At least one of us won't act fake.

"Of course you can, I just thought you would want to ... do other stuff"

"Maybe like lock myself and cry until my body rots? Is that what you think I will be doing?"

Silence. The word that means lack of words, when it actually contains the most words out of the whole conversation.

"Look, Emma, I may not be able to do the right thing, but I still try to."

"Am I supposed to fall in tears right now and we can make out?"

"No, I just ... "

"Look Ryan, just because I am coming to live with you this doesn't mean we get to be a lovely married couple."

"I know."

"Then stop pretending you don't"

Seriously if that guy says another one of those cheesy stuff I am running away. Maybe fostercare would be better.

~~Later that same night

“Emma, how do you find dinner?” Ryan’s mom asks me as a true housewife and cook.
“It’s ok, although vegetables are not my thing”
“Really? I though children grow out of that by the age of thirteen. Certainly the ones I’ve seen”
“Mom, you mind?”
What a surprise, Ryan is trying to protect me from his mom’s sort-of offence by signaling, in what he thinks is not obvious, to her with his look.
“It’s fine. Lots of people say that, I guess I am just one of those exceptions to the rule”
“Well, you will need to change this if you are living under my roof”
At that point poor Ryan dropped his fork. How lame of him to think I will give in to that and run to my room crying.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see who is more stubborn then.”
Ryan’s mother lifts and eyebrow and smiles.
“I guess so. I hope chocolate is your thing?”
“Chocolate is every girl’s thing”
Ironic. During this dinner I’ve said more jokes than I used to and still I can’t smile. Not even a glimpse. Feels like those muscles don’t seem to work. If I tried I would probably look like that dragon from the “How to train your dragon” Disney movie. Like, the dragon didn’t understand what a smile is, he was just trying to be more like a human, which resulted in a very strange looking movement of his lip muscles to kind of open his mouth.

In Emma’s room after dinner

“Hey, what can I do for you Ryan?”
“What are you doing?”
“Just reading an old book. Why do you care?”
“Can I join you?”
“You hate reading. I told you, you don’t have to do this,”
“ I want to do this.”


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