Thursday, 20 March 2014

A response of sorts, to four cartons of milk.

Here's something I came up with a while ago. Somewhat a sequel or a companion read to Ashley's post (click here to read). It's still in the workshop-ing process but I decided to publish it here anyways. Please leave any suggestions below!

Part I
I stared down at my white notebook covered with designs etched on with black sharpie. Each doodle was like a piece of my heart -  a moment in time, frozen in pure bliss and happy laughs. As I withdrew from my "happy place", my friends came out. 
I never left them behind, I knew how it felt. How it felt to have your heart torn out and stomped on. How it felt to know that your "friends" were whispering about you. How it felt to feel that you were insignificant. 
They motioned for me to follow them, and so I did, watching them flip their hair and flirt with boys. I pushed my glasses further up my nose and added a new doodle to my notebook. 

Part II, section 1
I watched my friend cry and I felt nothing run through me. No pain, no guilt, no sadness, no empathy. I patted her on the back awkwardly. I watched her pull out another tears and dry her tears. Making people happy was something I was good at and it made me feel happy to cheer them up. I patted her on the back again, and smiled at her. It wasn't so much a smile of glee or happiness - not even a smile that expressed sympathy. Simply, a smile that showed thereness
She stood up and looked me in the eyes. They were startling dark and steely. 
"Get away from me," she snarled. 
I ran. 

Part II, section 2
"Stop! Come back." 
I turned and saw her chasing after me. She looked like an emotional train wreck: black tears, pale face, bloodshot eyes. She was clearly hormonal and not in control of her emotions. 
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
And that was enough for me. 

Part III
I'd given up. Too many holes inside of me, not enough words of thanks to fill them up. I was like a volcano about to erupt. I had realised that sometimes I was hormonal, sometimes I didn't wait, sometimes I snapped. But most of the time I was fine, I was kind, I waited, I helped. 
My friends were fine, living lives of beautiful ignorance, completely oblivious to the war going on inside of me, to the wonderful lies I spun everyday. They were nice enough, but reminded me of the ways cars drove in action movies - swerving rapidly between two sides of the road. Good and bad. Happy and sad. 
I just wanted to be alone. 

Part IV
There was nothing for me to do, I was an aeroplane doomed to crash and burn. I was always left alone, that one kid in the class treated as a dangerous animal. I was caged up by my loneliness and I screamed as my friends stared at me, clicking away at their cameras, oohing and aahing. I paired up with another boy in my class. Another outsider. I acted like it was fine, but it wasn't. 
I had been trodden on so many times, and now I couldn't get up anymore. I was stuck, pinned down by my agony and my isolation from others. 
Nothing matters to me anymore. My problems are nothing compared with what others are facing. I'm not important. 
Maybe I'll be rich, maybe I'll be poor. Maybe I'll be happy, or maybe I'll just act happy while locking my sadness away forever. But what does it all matter? 
We're all going to die anyway.

EDIT: This is not about anybody I know. I've been asked to change it but I decided not to, but here's a disclaimer anyways.  Every single part of this post is completely fictional. The girl doesn't exist, her friends don't exist, her problems don't exist. The only part of this post that is true is the fact that we're all going to die. 

1 comment:

  1. ohmygoodness I love this
    This is like the emotional version of the one I wrote, thank you so much for writing this.
    -cries of happiness-