Tremble

With every breath, with every beat of the song, and with every movement I see or do makes me tremble in fear, aggravation, and joy.

It’s the last time I will ever set foot in my middle school. Just as I am today, I was glad to leave.

It’s there, when I’m about to leave, that a swirl of emotions and thoughts overtake me, making me tremble and shake in a one-time dress as I watch my class dancing merrily.

Seeing him there makes me want to confess all I feel for him, because today is the last day I will ever see him. Today is the day one part of my world will end and be brought into the darkness of memories in order to bring light to a whole new world. Today is the day I promised myself I would speak to him.

But today is also the day I give that fantasy up.

Because one look at him makes me tremble.

Because throughout all of our time in school together from elementary to where we are now, he has always made me feel this way. What happened between us is something of the past, but all the memories come back and force their way into my brain by force, because in all of those years, I have trembled in fear, fear that yes, he does know how I feel. But those trembles and fears soon evolved, and a thought I once forbade came into mind: Yes, he feels the same way.

I don’t know when I started thinking that, but I felt it deep inside. He feels the same way to me as I feel to him, but in a struggle against words and expectations of others, we— No, I don’t act upon those feelings and emotions that make me tremble and shake as I stand next to the door and see him because of the endless amount of memories I had with him and the memories I could have.

Because of the time he called the teacher to take me to the nurse after I fell and tried to hide my scraped knee under my skirt, because of the time he only smiled for me, because of the time he listened to all my stories and worries and fears and regrets, because of the time he took the blame several times for what I did, because of the time he hugged me, because of the time he wanted to say happy birthday, but I stopped him, because of the time he noticed me at a dance despite the fact that I was trying to hide from him, because of the time he confessed to me three times, even when I had rejected him in every single moment because—

Because what?

I stand there at the door, my knees shaking because I know that yes, I will make a decision I will regret.

I look at him one last time before I go out the door and close it, shutting my life away from the boy who said he loved me.

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