Awake My Soul
Chapter 1
As I lie in bed, all I can think about is the hurt. 'I Need You So Much Closer' is playing... it makes me want to punch something.
All of these feelings, I can't sort them out. There's just so much pain, and anger, and distrust. But then there's also sadness, and loneliness. When my mom continuously asks "How are you feeling?" I don't actually know how to answer, because choosing only one adjective would be a lie. So, I lie anyways.
"Fine," I reply. Obviously I am not fine, but she doesn't press the matter, she lets it sit. In the open. For everyone to see.
Luckily it's just her and I in this house, or I would almost be embarrassed.
I roll out of bed with a heavy chest and heavy head. When I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror, I have no drive to cover the bit of acne on my chin, or even put my hair into a bun. I want to leave the house in my pajamas, clear faced, knotted hair; looking like crap because that's how I feel. Then I remind myself, these people are expecting me to be miserable. I could give them what they expect and let them feel bad for me, or I can look good and make them regret it.
My motivation sets in and I doll up to the best of my abilities. The snow outside in a factor I have to consider.
I felt cold, but good until I made it to the front doors of the school. A week ago, I had a boyfriend, a best friend, and a whole bunch of plans for an awesome grade 12 year. Now, all those things are gone, they do not exist, and I am completely lost. I don't even want to go to my locker because I'll see someone's sympathetic or judging face there.
I go anyways.
Sure enough, there's Ashley, my locker neighbor, friend, accomplice to my betrayal.
"Hey," she greets when I arrive. I stare at my lock so I don't need to look at her.
"Hello."
"Did you have a good break?" she asks awkwardly. Luckily enough, Ashley isn't a close friend. Just a person I talk to because her locker is located next to mine. She doesn't know the turmoil that is my brain right now, and she has no obligation to ask. I know she feels guilty though, because it was at her party where it happened.
I shrug. "It was alright." I grab the things from my locker that I need. "Bye, Ash," I say and leave.
My Literature 12 class is full of students who attended that same party, the one I missed because I was out of town. They all know. They all heard, or witnessed. Their eyes tell accounts I don't wish to hear, so I look forward, making no eye contact, and take a seat. Not my regular seat, but one located in the far back corner of the class. Here, no one can stare at me without me knowing, here is where I can see everyone. Here, I can hide and pretend I don't see Daniel walking in, or Joan following a few minutes late. I feel them stare though, for a moment I look up and see Joan's surprised face. Did she think I would skip school? No, I'm here, looking way better than I feel.
I'll show them.
But I can't concentrate. I doodle in my book, Mr. Martin doesn't bother me, which I'm grateful for. I'm free to let my mind wander, doodling and sleeping as I please.
Someone nudges me and knocks me from my trance. I look over and see the girl in the row next to mine, leaning close to me, something clenched in her hand.
"Here," she whispers, and throws the paper on my desk. A small smile, and then I turn from her.
My heart is skipping beats in it's sudden rapid pace. I have a feeling I know what it will contain, but at the same time, I'm completely unsure. I'm confused, scared, anxious. I feel like puking. I look up briefly, no one, not even the teacher, is paying attention to me. I unfold the paper, and I see writing. Writing I recognize better than my own.
Can we talk after class, please?
Joan
I crumple the note and throw it into the garbage near me. I hope she saw. I hope her green eyes are watching me right now as I sit back in my chair, stare at the teacher, and pretend that I'm listening. I hope she thinks I'm fine without her, that I don't care about her stupid plea to meet with me. I hope she doesn't see through me like she normally can, because if she can, she'll see that it is all just a lie. That I do hurt, that I do care, and that I feel lousy.
All of these feelings, I can't sort them out. There's just so much pain, and anger, and distrust. But then there's also sadness, and loneliness. When my mom continuously asks "How are you feeling?" I don't actually know how to answer, because choosing only one adjective would be a lie. So, I lie anyways.
"Fine," I reply. Obviously I am not fine, but she doesn't press the matter, she lets it sit. In the open. For everyone to see.
Luckily it's just her and I in this house, or I would almost be embarrassed.
I roll out of bed with a heavy chest and heavy head. When I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror, I have no drive to cover the bit of acne on my chin, or even put my hair into a bun. I want to leave the house in my pajamas, clear faced, knotted hair; looking like crap because that's how I feel. Then I remind myself, these people are expecting me to be miserable. I could give them what they expect and let them feel bad for me, or I can look good and make them regret it.
My motivation sets in and I doll up to the best of my abilities. The snow outside in a factor I have to consider.
I felt cold, but good until I made it to the front doors of the school. A week ago, I had a boyfriend, a best friend, and a whole bunch of plans for an awesome grade 12 year. Now, all those things are gone, they do not exist, and I am completely lost. I don't even want to go to my locker because I'll see someone's sympathetic or judging face there.
I go anyways.
Sure enough, there's Ashley, my locker neighbor, friend, accomplice to my betrayal.
"Hey," she greets when I arrive. I stare at my lock so I don't need to look at her.
"Hello."
"Did you have a good break?" she asks awkwardly. Luckily enough, Ashley isn't a close friend. Just a person I talk to because her locker is located next to mine. She doesn't know the turmoil that is my brain right now, and she has no obligation to ask. I know she feels guilty though, because it was at her party where it happened.
I shrug. "It was alright." I grab the things from my locker that I need. "Bye, Ash," I say and leave.
My Literature 12 class is full of students who attended that same party, the one I missed because I was out of town. They all know. They all heard, or witnessed. Their eyes tell accounts I don't wish to hear, so I look forward, making no eye contact, and take a seat. Not my regular seat, but one located in the far back corner of the class. Here, no one can stare at me without me knowing, here is where I can see everyone. Here, I can hide and pretend I don't see Daniel walking in, or Joan following a few minutes late. I feel them stare though, for a moment I look up and see Joan's surprised face. Did she think I would skip school? No, I'm here, looking way better than I feel.
I'll show them.
But I can't concentrate. I doodle in my book, Mr. Martin doesn't bother me, which I'm grateful for. I'm free to let my mind wander, doodling and sleeping as I please.
Someone nudges me and knocks me from my trance. I look over and see the girl in the row next to mine, leaning close to me, something clenched in her hand.
"Here," she whispers, and throws the paper on my desk. A small smile, and then I turn from her.
My heart is skipping beats in it's sudden rapid pace. I have a feeling I know what it will contain, but at the same time, I'm completely unsure. I'm confused, scared, anxious. I feel like puking. I look up briefly, no one, not even the teacher, is paying attention to me. I unfold the paper, and I see writing. Writing I recognize better than my own.
Can we talk after class, please?
Joan
I crumple the note and throw it into the garbage near me. I hope she saw. I hope her green eyes are watching me right now as I sit back in my chair, stare at the teacher, and pretend that I'm listening. I hope she thinks I'm fine without her, that I don't care about her stupid plea to meet with me. I hope she doesn't see through me like she normally can, because if she can, she'll see that it is all just a lie. That I do hurt, that I do care, and that I feel lousy.