Twelfth

                                    

                                          
[A month later]
'Happy times are cruel in hindsight, are they not?' is what I had wondered aloud once in front of my cousin after having witnessed one of the worst fights of my dearest folks. 
'Why do you say so?' is what she had asked in return.
Because happy times were only beautiful for the moment they existed. It was expected for you to have a time ahead in which you would feel fondness for them.
Except, they were simply cruel if that time never came. Then the 'happy times' you had brought only regret. Deep regret. And yearning. Horrible, life-taking, painful yearning for them to return. For the memories to not be just memories. For the happiness to return.
Emilia had simply sighed after hearing that edgy piece of wisdom. 'So you'd rather always be sad?'
The immediate thought after hearing that question was something I still mulled over. But something I had never worded out to anyone. Was never planning to.
I just sometimes wish things could have sucked right off the bat. Maybe I would be better at dealing with them. Maybe I wouldn't have hope from time to time then.
"Or maybe things don't suck at all." I slapped both my cheeks simultaneously. "Stop spiraling Adaira, for fuck's sake."
Hope. Hope. Hope. 
Fuck them all for giving it to me. 
"Stop spiraling, stop spiraling," I groaned. 
A blonde boy getting up from the nearby table blinked.
A 17 year old girl, sitting in one corner of the library, chanting two words over and over, slapping herself once or twice– clearly was not a very pretty or enchanting sight.
But then again. Pretty, enchanting or hell, a sight at all is something I had been trying to avoid being for the past two years.
I hit my math textbook on my head. "No. Stop."
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the blonde boy stood up very slowly from his spot and approached mine. 
Oh, well, fucking great.
"Um hey." He scraped the chair. "Are you–"
"Did I say you could sit here?"
The chair was pushed back in its original position as soon as my words had travelled to his ear.
"Are.." he hesitated. "Are you alright? I just saw you–"
Nice question, bro. But you are not the boy I want it from.
"Al-left," I said.
He stared.
"Not alright, but al-left. Because we are in the left corner," I went on.
He kept staring.
"It's a joke," I finally said.
"Oh, um," the blondie said. "Ha-ha-ha."
"Ha-ha-ha," I agreed. "Meth surely does get into one's head, doesn't it?"
"Oh math." He spotted the textbook in my hand. His expression suddenly looked like 'ah that explains it'. 
"Meth," I clarified. "M-E-T-H. The one with an E."
Aaand. He was back to staring. Forget a 'pretty sight', the boy looked like he was having doubts about the '17 year old girl' part and more so was theorising for me to be a psych ward runaway or something.