Confessions of an Optimistic Pessimist

The first time when I was
asked to send nudes
Was when I was 14.
I, an anxious and reclusive freshman,
Auditioned for the school play.
I was awarded the part as
The love interest for the protagonist.
Whenever he would
Hold my hand or kiss my cheek,
My face would turn beat red and
Dearly, I tried to bite down a smile.
The boy was a junior or a senior,
if I remember well,
And he was well-liked by all
For his charisma and dimples.
I didnt have any friends,
Nor saw myself a friendly person,
So when I saw his friend request in my inbox,
I was exhilarated,
beaming with school-girl giddiness–
the kind where you nestle the phone close to your chest and kick your feet.
I accepted, and in the
wee small hours of the morning,
He and I exchanged small talk,
About our favorite
childhood cartoons and video games.
It felt so refreshing,
To feel like a child again.
I couldnt remember the last time that I had.

I believe it was a Friday in October,
And a chill seeped deep into
the marrow of my bones
As the sun descended down the cemetery hill.
My mother called to me,
“I need you to check in on me every fifteen minutes,” she advised.
I saw her signature cigarettes open beside
A jar of moonshine.
Quietly, I understood and acquiesced.
Soon, our sleepy town was bathed in a rich darkness
And with each passing hour,
She became drunker and drunker.
I became sadder and angrier.
Towards midnight,
our neighbor pulled into their driveway,
And my mother shouted for him to join her.
Without notice, she took off towards him.
Quickly, I threw on my blue sandals and
Ran after her.
He looked discernibly tired in his glassy eyes
But put on a polite smile
As she gathered him by his arm
And drew him towards our home.
I kept apologizing to him,
But he smiled and laughed, assuring me
That “it’s alright.”
My blood boiled, seething.
When she momentarily went inside,
I took the mason jar and threw the last contents into the side yard.
Immediately, I regretted it.
The screen door closed behind her
With a terrible screech.
“Which one of you assholes took the rest of my drink?”
She quickly retrieved her keys,
“Now, I have to run and grab more.”
The memory is hazy, but I know that I fought her viscously for the keys.
Curses and shouts were exchanged.
I cried, threw my hands into the air:
“Im done. I tried.”
In the solitude of my bedroom,
The fighting ensued and echoed through the thin walls.
Ding.
Blue light illumintating my face
Here was a notification
From my him, my friend.
I leaped at my phone,
Dried the tears forming in my eyes.

Him: “How are you?”
Me: “Im doing alright! 😄 Just watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower, it’s my favorite movie. How are you? Are you still enjoying Metal Gear Solid?”
Him: “Yeah, no. Im doing alright. Hey, would you wanna send me some nudes?”

My heart sank.

Me: “I dont feel comfortable with doing that. So, no. No, thank you.”

Cries and shouts and the slamming of doors died into a lethal silence.
I blocked him.
I think that it was then
When the seed was planted
Somewhere deep inside me:
Love is transactional.

But I am learning to unlearn that.