Pictures - Part 1

Hello everyone!
As you can read in the About me section I'm not an English native speaker, so I'll probably mess up a lot and you'll have to excuse the major mistakes I'll made, but as a friend of mine said this is a personal blog and I can publish whatever I want, and I really thought for a while about writing in English... So I'm trying, and I hope whoever'll stumble upon this posts will enjoy the reading. I don't know if I'll be able to post really often, but I'll try at least once a week. Thank you for being here!
The first picture you and you soulmate are in will be sent to you on a birthday.

I hate discos. I hate the smell of alcohol and smoke and sweat. I hate the noise, the so-called music that seems more like a lot of wrong sounds pressed together to make people believe they’re dancing and having fun. I hate the people pressed around me, who move freely just because there’s not enough light to make them out.
But most of all right now I hate my stupid self for letting this people drag me here on my birthday, when I just wanted to be home reading a good book. Or spending some time with my real friends, the ones who would let me have some fuckin’ space.
It’s not like they think they’re doing something wrong, I already know this. They’re worried about me, ‘cause it’s my 21st birthday and I still haven’t received my photo, the one with my soulmate. And for some reason they think I might meet that person tonight.
Yeah, as if. If they were really my soulmate they wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure. I let them drag me around another ten minutes, “dancing” and being took a couple of photos from the official photographer.
-Guys, I’m going home!
Eva puts her head near mine. –What?!
-I’m going to the bathroom!- I change my mind at the last minute.
-Want me to come with you?
-Nah, I’ll be quick.- She nods and doesn’t notice as I walk out the front door sending her a message saying that I’m coming back home and she doesn’t need to worry ‘cause I’m taking the car. Not that I think she’ll notice I’m gone for a while, but better safe then sorry.

The next morning I’m up by seven o’clock. I slept like three hours, but that’s not a lot less then the usual. I hear a knock on the door an half hour later and choose to ignore it. Another one. I don’t move from the breakfast table.
I don’t really care. If it’s so important they can just call me.
I get up after some minutes and feel something weird under my feet passing in front of the door. When I look down I see this marble-like envelope. What kind of person sends marble-like envelopes? In some ways it kind of reminds me of some shells I used to find on the beach when I was a kid, to take home and leave on my shelves. They were really cute, but I don’t go to the beach anymore, neither I know where they are. Probably somewhere at my parents’. I open the envelope while going in my room to get changed and head to uni. I stop in front of my bed, feeling a little like throwing up. Okay, feeling a lot like throwing up. I’m not sure I want to see what’s inside.
So I don’t.
I put on some orange trousers and a white blouse. No make-up, ‘cause yesterday’s should be enough for the next month and people should know I’m tired and don’t want to see any of them. Not that that usually works.
I go outside feeling the sun finally warm enough to don't use any jacket.
The whole time I’m talking to my parents on the phone and answering the Happy birthday messages I keep on thinking of the envelope I still haven’t seen the inside of. I’m thinking about letting it like that forever. Why shouldn’t I? Or, better, why should I let a photo sent from who-knows-who decide on my life, on my “soulmate”? If such a thing exists, ‘cause I really don’t believe so.
And it doesn’t matter what my friends say. Any of them. Nor it matters that all of them already found their soulmates and are living their happy ever after. I really don’t care. I swallow and walk to the university building repeating myself the same words over and over again. I don’t even have any lessons right now, I just came to get some study done in the library so I won’t be home thinking about stuff and ending up not doing anything.
Still, sometimes I keep on feeling like throwing up. I keep it down and head down one of the most hidden places in the library. I don’t want to see anyone, so I ignore my friends’ messages asking when I’ll come and if I want to meet up beforehand. It’s not their fault, but seeing the envelope messed me up.
I study for an hour and half, finally getting lost in something different from my own thoughts. When I feel the phone vibrate for a couple of times in a row I look away from my book and blink ‘cause my eyes hurt from the light. While I was focused on studying the library started being more packed with people, I feel them whispering from the other sides of the shelves, but on my table there’s just another person, bent over three or four different books, seeming to write something that needs all of them to be done. I envy them, thinking it’s probably their thesis and they’re going to have finished in some weeks or some months at most. They raise their head from the book and look at me like they felt my stare, so I quickly look away. I didn’t avoid my friends to start talking to some random stranger with cute curls and piercing eyes who just happens to study here at my same time. But that makes me think about my friends, indeed, so I finally check my phone and find ten and plus messages that ask me where I am. The envelope still looks at me from my bag, but this time eyeing me as the fuckin’ coward I am. For avoiding my friends, obviously. No other reason. And I feel guilty, I do, just not guilty enough to overcome the punch in my stomach and answer. So I choose to spend my remaining half hour in the library, though I doubt I’ll be able to do anymore study. I get up putting the phone in my back pocket, not ‘cause I think I’ll use it, but to not leave it here.
-Sorry,- I whisper, -I’m leaving here my things for a moment…- the stranger doesn’t make me finish and nods, so I walk relieved toward the toilet. I really don’t know what to say half of the times I start talking. I just hope the sentence goes somewhere without my help. Could you give it a look? It sounds lame. Everything sounds lame.