Sidewalk Chalk
Chapter One
Sometimes, I have Dissassociative moments. You know that you are there physically, but you don’t really feel like it. It’s moments like these where you second guess your own name and wonder if that bad kiss in eighth grade was real or if you’d imagined it.
It’s 4:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning.
Right now, I’m having one of those existential crises with the duration of a sneeze.
My name is Hayden Reily.
I find it helpful to just repeat facts to yourself until the words don’t sound like words and the vowels turn to mush. Every now and then, I even look up the facts, just to prove to myself that I am indeed awake.
It’s the 19th of August and today is my first day of school.
Oh shit; is it really? I glance over at the clock to confirm that it’s past midnight. Time is tricky; the night had been dragged out right under my nose, and I hadn’t suspected a thing.
I sit up in bed, turning on a lamp. I rub my sore eyes that burn with each blink. Why? Two reasons, one being that I’d been crying some, and the second being that I’m so damn tired.
So why can’t I sleep?
The clock ticks on by, and for a split second, I imagine it’s hands really being tongues; broad, clicking tongues wagging, mocking me.
I sink my head into my hands, admitting,
“I need sleep more than I thought.”
Still, I can’t just get myself to relax. I try to count sheep, but
I always lose count somewhere around the forties.
I tend to be a drifter when it comes to thinking. That’s what about every teacher I’ve ever had has said, and it took me about five teachers telling me this to realize that I am in fact a space case.
I don’t mean to be. It’s just that I’m always mentally busy. It’s not easy, either; sometimes I jump from thought to thought so quickly that I have to go back, retrace my steps and figure out how I got to whatever current idea’s floating around.
I rest my head against the bedpost and lie awake until my alarm buzzes at 7:00.
It’s 4:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning.
Right now, I’m having one of those existential crises with the duration of a sneeze.
My name is Hayden Reily.
I find it helpful to just repeat facts to yourself until the words don’t sound like words and the vowels turn to mush. Every now and then, I even look up the facts, just to prove to myself that I am indeed awake.
It’s the 19th of August and today is my first day of school.
Oh shit; is it really? I glance over at the clock to confirm that it’s past midnight. Time is tricky; the night had been dragged out right under my nose, and I hadn’t suspected a thing.
I sit up in bed, turning on a lamp. I rub my sore eyes that burn with each blink. Why? Two reasons, one being that I’d been crying some, and the second being that I’m so damn tired.
So why can’t I sleep?
The clock ticks on by, and for a split second, I imagine it’s hands really being tongues; broad, clicking tongues wagging, mocking me.
I sink my head into my hands, admitting,
“I need sleep more than I thought.”
Still, I can’t just get myself to relax. I try to count sheep, but
I always lose count somewhere around the forties.
I tend to be a drifter when it comes to thinking. That’s what about every teacher I’ve ever had has said, and it took me about five teachers telling me this to realize that I am in fact a space case.
I don’t mean to be. It’s just that I’m always mentally busy. It’s not easy, either; sometimes I jump from thought to thought so quickly that I have to go back, retrace my steps and figure out how I got to whatever current idea’s floating around.
I rest my head against the bedpost and lie awake until my alarm buzzes at 7:00.