Lonely

She walked slowly along the sidewalk, numbly examining the cracks between the paving stones. Her world was wobbling a bit, but it didn't bother her. Her thoughts drifted back to where she had been an hour ago:

"Come on, give me a kiss..." said a bald guy reeking of sweat and cigarettes.

"No, I can't," she replied with a smile.

The boy begged and begged until she finally gave in. She wanted this because she was tired of being ignorant. She kissed him for the first time, even though she thought he was an idiot. Why else would she be such a virgin and not a slut? After all, she was sixteen. What did she feel? She felt disappointed and cheated, and above all, very drunk. It was an idyllic summer vacation; her parents weren't home—you could drink freely. And Ewelina took advantage of it, because why not? What did she get out of life? Love was everywhere around her – in songs, in love-filled parks, on the streets, in movies, in paintings, photos, at parties. Everywhere! And she was still alone. Constantly, ceaselessly.

She walked lost in thought through the gray housing estate, feeling miserable, even though she knew she had done what so many of her peers did. "I'll never be like that! A kiss is something grand, something meant only for lovers. It's something wonderful," she'd thought just six months ago. Now all that had vanished – she'd broken her own rules. She keeps breaking them. A year ago, it would have been unthinkable for her to see the world constantly slipping away before her eyes…

Walking this path, she resolved, once and for all: "I'm going to find a boyfriend!" Where did she look? On instant messenger. She couldn't think of anywhere else. But dates with these strangers always ended tragically. No one was happy: neither they nor she.

Ewelina sometimes felt like her life was one big mess. For about a year, not a day went by without her thinking about the person she missed. Missed so much. Sometimes she even felt like her desire was obsessive: she saw happiness only in a boy and nothing else. Her loneliness intensified when she watched her friend with a boy. She hated being in a threesome! She felt like a third wheel: awful.

As everyone knows, every road leads somewhere: the sidewalk Ewelina was walking on led her to her apartment. She opened the door and went straight to her room to go to sleep. Lying there, she remembered her fateful kiss. Rage rose within her, and she began to cry. At herself, at the hopelessness of fate, at her cruel destiny. She was furious with herself for drinking. She vowed it would never happen again.

After a while, she fell asleep and woke to the sound of the doorbell. It was her mother, and she still felt drunk. Ewelina decided to quickly open the door and return to her room. Her mother wasn't paying much attention to her—she was tired from work.

The girl returned to bed and began to ponder happiness. What could bring her happiness? She concluded that she had to devote herself to some passion—to dedicate all her thoughts solely to it. Anything seemed better to her than thinking about boys—because that led nowhere anyway.

Six months later:

Ewelina had drunk more than once, kissed random guys more than once. But those six months had changed something within her: she had fulfilled her resolution: she had poured her entire soul into painting. Her paintings might not have been particularly cheerful, but they were beautiful and had depth. Creating finally made her feel happy, truly happy. This didn't mean, of course, that she no longer wanted a boyfriend—because she did, very much so. But now, that was a secondary concern. At least, not the most important one.

THE END