Let me love you

Let me start by saying I'm no wall painting, I mean sure, I'm tall, 5 foot 7, with long blonde hair, my eyes are blue, and my lips are pouty.

But that's it, well apart from being slightly overweight with tummy rolls, oh and some stretch marks, maybe a few scars, ok maybe a lot of scars. Most of them on the inside, but quite a few on the outside. Ok another lie, my body is covered in them.

I'm an introvert and suffer with anxiety; to put it bluntly, I don’t like me. I hate me, I hate my body, my personality, my mannerisms and my attitude. But it's all things due to how I was raised and what I endured through high school and where I ended up before collage.

A memory or memories I don’t visit often because it tends to make me drink, and when I drink, I don’t stop until I'm passed out and basically in a coma.

My best friend Beth is the complete opposite and that's why they say opposites attract. She is taller than me, slimmer than me, long black hair, a face of an angel. Her skin is tanned, and she has the perfect shaped eyebrows. she is outgoing and fun, happy and sweet.

We met in high school 12 years ago. I told her repeatedly that we couldn’t be friends because she would be made an outcast like me, but she just decided that I was her person and that was that. She witnessed some of my bullying from the schools "A list assholes", but not all of it.

I can count at least 8 different occasions where she slapped a boy Roman Liddle around the face with her book for calling me fat. or the time she smashed a girl's head Hayley Helson into her locker when she caught her trying to steal my stuff during gym. Then the time she punched Jessica Roberts, who I Lothe by the way, in the mouth when she was about to throw food over me in the cafeteria.

Beth is my rock, and I tell her all the time how she saved me back in the day, how she makes me feel less worthless. She knows some of my past but not all of it. not the darkest bits, no, not everyone needs to know about my lowest moments. Again, it's not something I like to re-visit because it makes me turn to the drink. some secrets are best kept hidden.

I work from home as a partner publisher slash proofreader, my love for reading became an addiction when I joined a Facebook page for avid readers of the dark and disturbed. I even read authors who write about taboo subjects and the forbidden. It excites me, slightly.

Working from home suits me because I don't like people, well I don't like fake people, so I chose to stay a silent partner in the business I part own. I just like Beth, and I guess now I like her partner Kevin too. But everyone else, nope, they can jog the fuck on.

I have my routine, my morning ritual if you please. I get up at 8, shower, eat a small breakfast and then enjoy a cup of coffee on my front porch. Weather permitting of course.

Then its work, I can read for hours without so much as a break. I have lunch around 2 which will be a slice of toast or a sandwich and then another coffee around 2.30. Dinner is usually around 6, but that depends on whether the book I'm working on is a good one or not.

I only leave the house twice a week. Once to see Beth for lunch on a Wednesday and then once for a grocery run on a Saturday. I don’t stop to talk to anyone because I don’t want to, plus I'm known for being a bit blunt.

Beth comes to my house whenever she feels like it, most of the time She's alone, but more often than not she brings Kevin. He is a good guy, polite but funny. He’s accepted my mean ways, my blunt mouth and excessive swearing.

So, all in all life for me is good, it's better than ever. I'm alone but happy, I'm financially secure. My house is my own, with no mortgage. My bills are paid; my car is paid. Any repairs that need doing, I do myself.

The side of the street I live on is quiet, just me and the house next door that's been empty since Mr. Samuels passed away 6 months ago. Plus, another two houses across the street, both with elderly residents.

I've lived in Vaiden, Mississippi since I was 21. Since I left college and relocated here to get away from my past. Beth chose to come with me, couldn’t leave her bestie, even though her family is from Boston, she wasn’t close to them so leaving them was an easy decision.

Today is Saturday and I woke over an hour ago, nightmares will do that, I know I need to get up but for some reason I can't seem to find the energy. Probably one of my down days, I have lots of those. Or it could be the fact I need to go to town, and it always makes me anxious.

But needs must. I need new ink for the printer and I'm running low on food. God, I hate Saturdays. Engine’s rev from outside breaking my low thoughts and I crank my neck towards my bedroom window.

Beep, beep, beep.

Jesus, what in god's name is all the fucking noise. It's like a car meet outside my window, that sounds like multiple big trucks coming and going. People yelling and laughing. I guess next door finally has a new owner. Wonderful.

Please be old, please be old, I chant this over and over as I make my way to the window for a better look. Lots and lots of men walking and talking, playfighting and singing, gross.

The van is a moving van, big and white, the back doors are open, and furniture is being unloaded into the house. Another black van arrives; the name Petersons plastered on the side in bright orange letters. Some sort of handy man grounds worker. Great, means they will probably come over and see if I need any work doing on my house.

I can't stand here all day watching, I need to move my ass. I climb in the shower and get ready for my dreaded trip to town. Maybe the new neighbors will just learn to ignore me like everyone else.

Once dressed I have some breakfast and take my coffee to the porch to enjoy the morning sunshine. Its short lived because the noise next door is at an all-time high. Music blasts from the house, while men continue to laugh and sing.

Dear god I hope that's just a one off. I’d hate to fall out with them on the first day. I take my cup back inside and grab my keys for the car. I lock the door and walk back outside to my little blue Honda.

Just as I go to climb in, my eyes lock onto what can only be described as a male model, tall tanned and with short dark hair. Dear lord please don't let that be the owner.

He lifts his hand and waves, but I don’t wave back. He smiles when he realizes I'm not returning his wave; he even gives a little chuckle. Cocky son of a bitch. I climb in my car and reverse out of my driveway.

Today is not a good day.