Young Writers Society

I wanted to run into my room and slam the door shut as hard as I could. I wanted to sob out loud and eat chocolate until my stomach hurt, to muffle my cries in a pillow, to pound my fists on my bed, and to blast music until my parents came upstairs to ask me what was wrong. I wanted to do anything but be here right now in this situation.

But all I could do was watch as he walked away. His back was turned to me, but I knew the look he had on his face. His gait was slow and deliberate, as if taunting me. Taunting me for what! I screamed mentally, why would you ever want to do something so hurtful, so excruciatingly painful? Why? The word rang in my mind, over and over again. But I knew why he had left me. I knew more than anyone why. As his silhouette disappeared into the distance, I broke down. The burden on my heart was unbearable. I slid down the side of the locker, letting the tears stream down my face, not caring whether or not someone came in at this minute and saw me. The tears welled in my eyes and fell in continuous lines, soaking my loose fitting t-shirt. A single drop landed on my hand, the exact place he had kissed me only yesterday. I clawed at the back of my hand, trying to erase the memories of him with this physical punishment.

Who needed him? I thought. He obviously never loved me. He had someone he loved more than me; if he loved someone enough to leave me, then his love for me was never true. I consoled myself with this fact. It was the only shred of hope I had left in my tired body. Yes, that’s right, he never loved me… I won’t fall into his trap, I won’t be jealous.

But the longer I dwelled on the subject, the longer his image stuck in my mind: his blue eyes that had stared into mine on that first day, his mouth that was perpetually stuck in an awkward grin that never failed to cheer me up, his dark hair that tickled my every time we cuddled, and his soft lips that had met mine. No, stop, he’s gone. I shook my head, trying to clear it of him. I clutched my head, shaking it, and pounding it against the metallic doors. There was a resounding echo in the hallway, only reminding me of the fact that I was alone. A draft through an open window chilled me to the bone. I shivered; the draft was only another reminder. I could feel his arms wrapped around me on that night we had spent outside, dreaming of what we would be doing in five years. The warmth of his fingers were still there.

What did she have that I didn’t? I remembered his gaze upon her when she had walked into the classroom. In the same way a lion eyed its prey, he had his eye upon her from the beginning. We had been together for almost a year at that point. I remembered the smirk on his face when he had cornered her and the joy he had when he had received her number. But what scorched my mind most was when I had caught him kissing her by her locker. Was it because her boobs were bigger? I stared down at my own chest. Was that the reason? Because my sex appeal wasn’t enough? Was that the true reason why he had been going out with me in the first place? To get into my pants? I let out a horrendous sob, the evil truth dawning upon me. Did my personality, my character, and my attitude not mean enough? Did my love mean nothing? Was love these days simply a game to people?

I leaned back and stared into the blinding lights. It hurt so much, to be alone and lose the love of your life. It hurt. An alarm rang, reminding people inside the school to exist the building. I picked up my weary body and grabbed my bag. I stumbled to the door and shoved them open. The winter’s cold, hit me hard. Though I had a sweater in my bag, I had no desire to put it on. I sighed; life could be so complicated some times. I dried my watery eyes and slung my bag over my shoulder. There would be more time to cry later. Being a girl sucked sometimes, I said to myself. I unwillingly walked into the public eye. It hurt so badly. Guys were all the same. I refused to let them hurt me again.

Old Draft (so people won't be confused as to what everyone else was editting before):

I think there are thousands of people who would like this story, because so many of us have been in situations like this, felt the same things, asked the same questions in our minds. Interesting piece, and well-written too. The only thing that I don't really like is when you talk about "love of your life". The events in your story take place in school, right? Just it's very rare that people meet love of their life in high school. People just won't take it serious, you know. So either erase "love of your life" in order not to make it too dramatic, either change the part about classroom and school to make it more serious. Anyway, it's your story, so don't change anything if you don't agree with me.

You have a lot of conflicting emotions in this piece. A certain amount can be good, but in this case it is beginning to become repetetive.
For instance, earlier on in the piece you say that he broke up with the character because he never loved her, yet further on you mention she cannot understand why he broke up with her.
As another pointer, I would suggest putting the thoughts of the character into italics. It just makes the piece a little easier to follow.
On the whole though, I think a lot of people can relate to this situation and that is where you've hit home. Keep typing!

Wow, this was surprisingly ambitious. Since your profile says you're a guy, it means you tried to write the view point of a girl. The reason why I say this is ambitious, is because you have to try very hard to make it seem natural.
The only thing I will say, is that IMO girls focus more on the "details". This is just for me, but I wouldn't think the problem to do with my chest, or my appearance. I would probably go back through all I said and wonder was it because I said this? or was it because I said that? etc. Girls tend to remember all the silly stuff, if I'm allowed to say that.
Over all, nice piece of flash-fiction!

In the second paragraph, I'd italicize "Why?" to show that she's thinking it. You could also italicize the Who needed him? at the beginning of the third paragraph and anything else she thinks. The beginning of paragraph four is a run-on sentence. Also, in paragraph four, it says:
"I shook my head, trying to clear it of him. I clutched my head, shaking it, and pounding it against the metallic doors." The second shaking of the head is redundant. Also, I don't know how she can clutch, shake, and pound her head at the same time, unless she's shaking her head in a pounding motion, in which case, the pounding is also redundant.
Sorry if I was tough. I did like it though, it's a classic theme that you wrote beautifully. Hope this helps.