Cassie

1

Cassie

 

Do you ever get the feeling that someone’s watching you? Some presence from some unknown world is just seeping through the oblivion just to snatch you up and eat you alive. I always do. At first I just convinced myself I was just hallucinating but after a while, there’s only so much convincing you can do. I glanced behind me, just in case I were to catch a peek at this unbearable force.

And no, just in case you were wondering, I don’t always have these morbid thoughts while walking home from school, but occasionally when I’m not thinking about Erik James or how I’m going to finish my math homework, my mind can’t help but wander back to the eerie thought. But I mean, let’s be real, putting aside the creepiness about the situation, why would anyone want to stalk me? I never talk, and when I do I’m skyping my Internet friends, or muttering insults to anyone who comes near me.

And again, before you make any conclusions about me, please understand that I do not have social anxiety or anything of the sorts. I simply believe that (besides my Internet friends and the very few acquaintances I have at school.) there is no person that could make my life any more exciting than it already is. I’m not saying that I have an enriching life that every person at the school is dying to have. Actually my life is probably the exact opposite from that, all I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to waste my life with uninteresting, bitter flat people that only have the purpose of making my day utterly suck. I don’t believe in killing people with kindness, I just merely “kill” them with silence. Or at least I kill the thought of them anyway.

As I made it to the front door I made eye contact with my dad as he mowed the lawn. I wouldn't necessarily say that he’s the only person I actually tolerate, but I mean he’s the only person I don’t mind having to hold an actual conversation with in person.

I broke my eyes away from his and continued my journey to the front door. My mother happens to be the exact opposite of me and my dad. Complicated and emotional, just a roller-coaster on feet. Hence the twisted stone patterns completed with assorted pebbles and flowers and occasional weeds making a path to our front porch. If it were up to me and my father, it would be a blank path of gray concrete. I don’t know how my parents have lasted this long with each other.

I wiggled my key into the door and as quietly as possible, opened the door and walked in without making a peep. As much as I love my mom, I’m really not in any mood to talk to her. She’d ask how my day was and I really don’t feel like explaining to her for the billionth time that I,

1. Still don’t have a boyfriend.

2. Still refuse to talk to anyone at school outside of my little bubble of almost friends

3. Refuse to even glance my way towards that stuck up freak Luke Daniels. (My mom is in love with that boy I swear)

She won’t get it. Mostly because she doesn't get me.

But I find myself bumping into her anyways. I guess it’s inevitable to run into someone who lives in the same house as you.