Cloudy Days

By , Temperance, MI

I was alive, I was breathing, I was awake, But I was dead. I was not suffering, I was not suffocating, I was numb. My motivation to get out of bed was at an all time low. I put on my school uniform along with my fake smile. I was never in a hurry, but I was constantly asked if I was. The knots framing my face were the reason for the questions. This was just my routine, this was the twisted normality that I called my life. This permanent black cloud that loomed over me is know by most as depression, but to me it was my normal.
     

You cannot have a life without a past, but you can have a life without major change. I do have a past and I do not consider it dark, but the emotions from my past were black. They were colorless, lacking emotion, representing my emptiness. The decisions I have made has shaped me into the person I am. Everything happens for a reason, good and bad. Sometimes the reasons are just harder to find. I do not go one day without thinking “what if.” What if one aspect of my life changed? How would I be different, would it be better or worse? These are the things I think about daily. My past is the reason for all of my questions and the lack of answers. Last year was when I came to my realization. I needed change and I was willing to twist everything around if I had to.
     

I will not forget this place. Pale yellow lockers slam shut as I walk by. My feet drag against the floor, leaving yet another scuff. Bright overhead lights guide me down the narrow endless hallway. My mood is nowhere near as cheerful as the laughs surrounding me. I stand below the daunting staircase barely lifting my foot to go up. My back strains under the weight of my bag, just a few more steps until I get my locker. I am no longer surprised that there is no one waiting for me. My hand moves fluidly to the motion I have unknowingly memorized, 10-28-34. My locker creaks open and I gaze blankly looking for the motivation to go to my first hour.
     

Most people cannot pinpoint one event in their lives that everything changed. I remember exactly when I changed. Three simple words asked by my mother. My immediate answer, almost out of habit was “yes.” I could never lie to her face, so I look at my nails, picking at the nothingness under them. I have gotten used to looking up and seeing her back walking slowly away, almost as if she knows I want to say something, almost. The pain is bearable, only a dull throb, I am certainly not dying. I can only imagine the concern in her brows, although I never see it. I never look into her eyes anymore, they remind me too much of what mine looked like when I was once happy. I fall onto my bed wrapped in my sheets and her question plays on repeat in my mind. “Are you happy?”
     

I had to do something I never thought I could do. I had to stop lying to myself. I did know why I wasn’t happy I just hadn’t admitted it to myself, I had to accept it. I hated who I was. I hated my “friends.” I hated my school. The people that mattered the most to me were not at my school. The people at my school gave a smile to my face and a glare to my back. I thought four years would be over faster than I could imagine. Two years dragged along and I decided I had to put my happiness first. I had to transfer.
     

I am indecisive. On my sixteenth birthday I started deciding a little bit faster. I finally saw who was really there for me. I invited all of my friends from school and my friends that didn’t go to the same school as me. None of the people I considered my friends from school came. That did not bother me, I was happy because I had the people I cared about most around me. The thing that hurt me was how they lied to me. Each of them gave me a different reason for not being able to come. Instead they all did something else together. I understand why they did it, they wanted to spare my feelings. Even if they had the best intentions they hurt me and changed me in a way I never have been before.
     

I decided to come here. I wanted change and I received it. Something is different about this place. The lockers are completely colorless, a sad gray. The hallways are stretched even longer, they constantly make me twisted. This place is bleak, but not as bad. What if I would not have changed? There’s something calming about not knowing anyone. Walking around looking at unfamiliar faces gives me a sense of peaceful loneliness. Will I ever try to make more friends? I do not have to be involved with anyone or anything. I am here for one reason and only one reason, I am going to find my happiness. 






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