hi, i'm roselle
i've always been torn between wanting to tell my story to everyone and let them know exactly what is in my head, or keeping it to myself. the problem is, being outwardly unhappy pushes people away, no matter if they say they're always there to listen. i mean of course i have a couple of friends that i trust with the world, but there is only so much your friends can listen to. but on the other hand, to pretend everything is fine when it's really not is to lie to yourself from the inside out; to ignore who you are and lose yourself. so which is better? to have people thinking you are melodramatic or just seeking attention, or to drown in your own mind and live a lie? im not one of those people who are constantly depressed, i mean, im actually usually happy. either way, this is my story. this is where i can post exactly whats on my mind, and if you dont like it, if you think i'm pessimistic, or over-emotional, then i guess thats up to you.

just like the old days, except everything was different now. "When I was 7 years old, I broke my wrist. I had gotten in a fight with Tommy Maducci over whether GI Joe was stronger than He-Man. Tommy had insisted that because I was a girl, I didn't know what I was talking about. To prove him wrong, I punched him in the nose. He came and pushed me off the jungle gym. My wrist was broken and in a cast. Even though I was one of the few girls in my neighbourhood, I wouldn't call myself a tomboy.

On Sunday afternoons, I'd go play baseball with Tommy, who I had forgiven for the playground incident. Tommy and I soon became best friends -- we built skateboard mini ramps, mowed lawns together in the summers, and shared slurpees and candy bars.

Through elementary school, everything was cool. Tommy could care less if girls had cooties and I didn't see boys as anything but playmates. But one day we woke up and we were teenagers. Tommy stopped calling me after school and I traded my skateboarding shoes for flip-flops and bought myself a skirt. We said "hello" on the bus and partnered up in science class, but that was it. Tommy flirted with girls in class and I rolled my eyes. It was annoying to me the way Tommy smiled at girls. He didnt smile at me like that. While skateboarding after school, I thought about Tommy.

One day I went down to the park, where we used to skateboard, hoping that he would be there. The ramp was gone and Tommy was nowhere to be found. The next day at school he was holding hands with Kelly Nicholson. I hated them both. What made her hangout-worthy? One day Tommy came up to my table during lunch with some of his new guy friends. "Hey Zoe, how's it going?" he said. "My friends and I are all gonna skate after school if you want to come." Skating sounded like fun, so I agreed. When I arrived, Tommy's friends were already there. Kelly Nicholson came with Tommy. They were an "item" but I knew it would never last. "Hey Zoe, I bet you can't do a crooked grind off that ledge," one of his friends said. "Yes I can," I huffed. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and pushed off. I made my way up onto the ledge, but lost my balance and fell backwards, my skateboard launching into the air, feel twisted up and arms outstretched.

Instead of breaking my fall, I broke my wrist. I closed my eyes, trying to hold back my tears. When I opened my eyes, Tommy was next to me. His eyes were wide and he looked scared. He yelled for his friend to get his mom and we drove to the hospital. Tommy put his arm around me, "Be brave, Zoe. We're almost there." It turned out that I had broken my wrist in the same place as when I hit Tommy in 2nd grade. The doctors put my wrist in a cast and sent me home. Tommy stayed with me the whole time. "Because of me, you've broken your wrist twice," he said.
"It isn't your fault. Sometimes things just happen." I replied.
"Well you know what I think?" Tommy pulled an old Barbie off my shelf, head shaved on the sides.
"That's Mohawk Barbie," I laughed.
"Oh yeah? Well I bet Mohawk Barbie is stronger than GI Joe and He-Man put together" Tommy dropped the doll on the floor and looked over at me.

And with that, Tommy Maducci kissed me. Right there with me and my big ugly arm cast, hair unwashed, stinky sneakers on the floor. The room started spinning, my knees got weak, and boy was I glad I broke my wrist. "What about your girlfriend?" I asked.
"She's not my girlfriend anymore." he said.
"Yeah, she wasn't your type anyway," I laughed.
"Nope," he said.
That afternoon, we took a walk down to the old 7-Eleven at the edge of the neighbourhood. Tommy held my casted hand the whole way, and bought me a slurpee and a candy bar. Just like the old days, except everything was different now."

- Zoe Graye, from Chicken Soup for the Soul: Teens Talk Relationships.