“Beep, beep, beep!” My alarm fills the air with an obnoxious sound. The thought of lifting myself out of bed seems like too much. I keep my eyelids closed tight to each other so I don’t have to embrace the light that surrounds me. I feel the soft cotton of the blanket locking in the heat radiating off my skin. I reluctantly roll over to turn the alarm off on my phone. After the beeping stops, silence finally fills the air. My eyes snap open and I begin admiring my white ceiling. This is what I do every morning. After a long examination of my ceiling I finally find it in me to unglue myself from the bed and make my way to the bathroom. The weight has already returned. A weight that can’t be measured in pounds or ounces but it still ways me down. I feel the weight on my shoulders and chest. It’s heavy enough that it feels like I am holding up the world. Each morning I wake up to the beeping from my alarm, hoping for the same thing. I want the weight to disappear.
I slowly move through the same routine everyday, as though I’m programmed to do so. That routine is followed to the exact minute like a clock hand continuously making its way through each and every number. Sometimes it feels like I’m trapped. Trapped behind a thousand iron bars. Caged like a zoo animal. Except there’s no bars, just my own body. The person that I used to be is lost within the person I am now. I want that person back desperately. I want to see her smile and laugh. I want to see her frolic with her friends. I want to see her try on her school work. But I can’t help thinking she’s gone. Gone forever.
After I finish my morning routine, I make my way up our never ending driveway to catch the same yellow bus that comes at the same time everyday. My body is stuck in a continuous repetitive circle that I can’t get out of. I make my way through the day at school. People say the same things to me. It gets sickening. I get called a “Slut” and people tell me “Nobody likes you.” I try to block people out because the weight I already carry is too much. Nobody sees how the words they say shoot through me. They don’t see my eyes soften and starting stinging with the saltwater of tears. They don’t see my shoulders sink down as I walk away. Even if they did see that they would still walk down the halls without a shred of remorse.
Later the teachers drone their way through the standards that the state makes us cover. All while they’re discussing math, or the civil war I stare out the window. I watch the small delicate snowflakes fall to the ground. I remember that each of these flakes I watch, are unique. My mind will then wander from the snowflakes to something that happened yesterday that upset me. My mind works like a pinball machine. Jumping from one topic to another constantly. I then hear the teacher call out my name with anger in her voice, “Pay Attention!” So I lock my eyes on her while my mind wanders elsewhere. After the last bell rings I get back on that same yellow bus again. The brakes finally squeal to a stop and I rise from my seat. The sight of my house gives me some relief. I made it through another day. I look at the black tar as I walk down the never ending driveway. As the front door nears, some of the weight finally starts to leave.
I climb back in that same bed to stare at the white ceiling again. Before I know it the silence in my room is interrupted again. “Beep,beep,beep!”
It starts over again.