It’s dark. There's nothing but static and varying blobs of color. I can’t wake up. I'm being sucked into this dark void. My eyes hurt; they sting. I’m rotting in bed. I force my eyes open, even though they were crusted shut. The sun is non-existent in my room as if there are no windows to leak any light in. As I get up, I hear the clanking of the dirty dishes left in my room while my foot slides past them. It’s Sunday, a free day, a day alone again. I go to get dressed. I want to look nice. I want to try, but it’s hard. I suck in, fit my jeans on, I get a good look at myself in the mirror. My hair is uneven and my eyes are droopy with big purple bags. My bottle of melatonin ran out a few weeks ago and I can’t get a new one. I know that I need help but I’m scared to get it. What will they think of me?
I’m dressed now. The house is silent. My parents aren’t home, as they want to escape responsibility and deny the fact that they messed up.
I remember when my mom told me they didn't want to have me; there was no hesitation from her, no shame hidden behind her eyes. I was only seven, thinking the world was against me all because of her. Her words are still engraved in my mind.
“You weren't supposed to happen. You are a mistake,” she had scoffed.
I’m in the kitchen. There's a tipped-over bottle of wine on the counter, having spilled onto the carpet. I don’t clean it, as I don’t have to. It’s not my responsibility. All the lights in the house are out, and it looks like it's abandoned. I’m alone. No one here but me. No one is here to judge me. I’m alone. I’m lying on the ground. It’s 10 a.m.
It’s 12:10, and 2 hours have gone by. It’s still just me. No one is home. My parents only show up when they know I’m gone, not waiting for them. I’m in the living room and the TV is playing Grey's Anatomy. I'm not watching. I don’t like the show but apparently it’s popular. I’m fine. My homework is finished, as there wasn’t that much of it. I did the bare minimum, as all I have to do is meet their expectations. I get up now because I’m bored. I don’t want to do anything though. On my way home from Isaac Newton High School on Friday I heard people talking about their plans, how they were going to hang out with their friends and have sleepovers. I never get invited to those events even though I’m always next to them, even though I talk to them, even though I tried to be friends with them, but now I’m tired. Now I have bags under my eyes, now the teachers forget to call my name during attendance, now I don’t want to be here.
It’s 2 p.m. I’m outside on the driveway. I like watching cars and people go by my house, I wonder where they're going. I wonder if they see me on the sidelines. I watch as a red minivan goes by, I see two kids in the back, they’re young, they look so happy. In the driver's side there is a young girl a bit older than me, she looks tired but she's smiling. Is she like me?
It’s 2:30 p.m. I’m in the backyard. The leaves of the trees have started to change color, most are dead already but it’s still pretty. The sky is blue and there aren’t many clouds. The grass is dying, it is yellow, brown, and green. The sun is in my eyes, I turn my head. Now I’m facing a dug up part of my yard, it’s a dead garden.
When I was young I tried keeping a garden. I planted many different varieties of plants and flowers, it was like a rainbow of different colors, the soil was damp and it was where the sun always hit. My favorite flower that I planted was the lilac, it was beautiful. It was many shades of purple and it glowed in the sunlight. It represented innocence. It smelt of fresh air with hints of vanilla. My garden was a gorgeous and happy place. This was all until I came out one day to see that all the flowers were cut and the roots were dug out. All that work is gone in just seconds. I ran to my house to see a bouquet of flowers that my mother was holding. She had said she needed them as a present for her new boyfriend. I know she did it partly for fun because she likes to antagonize me.
I never regained the motivation to plant more flowers, because all the roots were taken out and my garden wasn’t able to grow back. It’s all dead now. The dirt is flat now. I remember clearly how my mother smashed all the leftover lilacs and put them in water for fragrance in the house. Every time I smell a hint of vanilla I gag.
I go inside. It’s 3:22 p.m. The house is still empty, I've already forgotten what I did this morning, I've forgotten what time I heard my mother leave last night with a new guy, I've forgotten what book I’m reading, even if I am reading a book, I've forgotten.
It’s 4 p.m. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m on the floor of my room, sprawled out. I had to move multiple piles of clothes, I’m not sure if they’re clean. Probably not. It’s dark, it makes me feel tired all the time. I close my eyes, I imagine the end of the world, how it would be so beautiful, so pretty but so… sad. I can see flames of many different colors, I’m watching as buildings crumble, and people run by me, screaming. I feel warm tears falling down my cheek and I fall asleep.
I wake up to the sound of clicking heels. My mother is home. I check the clock, it’s 1 a.m. I slept for a long time. I go down the stairs and see my mother, she looks wasted.
“What are you doing in my house?,” she slurs. She has a bottle of white wine in her hand. She’s straightened her back. She’s taller than me now. I’m scared. “Why aren’t you in your room?” she whispers. I stay silent. I don’t know what to say, all I can do is stare at her.
“I don’t know” I respond once I see her put down the bottle. She walks away to the shoe closet and slips off her rose-red shoes. I walk over to her bottle of wine. I don’t want her drinking at home anymore, it’s not safe for me.
“What are you doing?” she says quietly. “What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?! That’s mine!” she's now screaming at me. I’m scared, I freeze, can’t move. The bottle’s stuck in my hand. I just want the world to end.
An alarm wakes me up, it’s 7 a.m. Monday, I have to go to school. I go to get ready, I get changed into my uniform. I put on a sweater over my short sleeve top, it’s needed to cover the stinging red mark on my arm that’s in the shape of a hand. I go downstairs. There’s a broken bottle of white wine on the floor. I walk past it, to the kitchen where I keep my school bag.
I’m at the bus stop, it’s freezing cold. There are two other kids here waiting too, I don’t care to learn their names. The bus stops, I’m the last to get on. I find the first empty seat and sit. People are talking loudly, like their screeching. It’s so loud.
The bus stops, people stop talking and get off, I follow. My first period is chemistry, and the first period is always the worst.
I reach my class, no one is there, it’s empty. The first bell hasn’t rung yet so everyone’s still outside talking with their friends, something I don’t have. I sit and do nothing but listen to the well known silence.
The second bell rings, people start to crowd the classroom. All of them are so pretty, so happy, but why so loud? It hurts my ears. The teacher comes in and starts to teach the lesson. I’m in the back of the classroom. She starts to go around to pass out some papers. She passes me, and doesn't make any kind of eye contact. She continues the lesson. I don’t have a piece of paper. I want to tell her and ask for one but I don’t, I can’t, I’m tired. I just sit and watch as the class continues without me, silently.
The bell rings for my next class, math. I’m stuck in a routine every day I’m doing the same thing, sitting in the background, watching, silently. It’s rare for someone to talk to me unless they're forced to because of a group project of some sort.
It’s lunch, I’m sitting alone at a table in the corner of the cafeteria. Most people believe that people like me would prefer to eat in the bathroom or some other place. Those are the people that don’t understand me, don’t understand the complexity of the human mind, how someone can feel multiple emotions not just a singular one. I didn’t pack lunch or buy any. I don’t have money and I didn’t have time in the morning. My stomach hurts so does my arm.
Five minutes have gone by. All I’ve done was just sit and stare and nothing. My quietness is interrupted.
“Hi! Do you have anyone to sit with? I don’t, I’m new here,” they squeaked. I don’t say anything, maybe then they will leave. “You sorta look sad all by yourself here so I'mma sit with you. By the way my name's Dave,” he continued. I don’t listen to the rest. My mind is focused on the first part of what he said. I look sad? I don’t want to be sad, I just want to be happy again.
“Hello? Lost you for a sec. Your name is Jaydin, right?” he said softly, as if he was speaking to a child. Jaydin, me? I’ve almost forgotten my name.
“Ya I’m Jaydin,” I had finally responded.
“You know if you want more people to come sit with you, you should try harder to at least pretend to be happy. Just some friendly advice,” Dave said. Try harder? I have tried, I tried so much back then but no one acknowledged it, they just left me in the dark. Now look what that's done to me, I can’t try anymore no matter how much I want to. It’s hard and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of having to repeat myself because someone thinks that what I say isn't important. I’m just tired, okay. I want to scream at him, I’m so mad but I don’t show it.
“You know what, you don’t have to sit here if you don’t want to. If my expressions make you uncomfortable you can leave,” I whisper scream at him. He gives a funny face at me, like he's confused, like he doesn’t understand what he had just said to me. Then he gets up and leaves.
It’s the last period. I try not to think of Dave. I feel guilty now, even though I shouldn't. It’s not his fault he doesn’t understand, that's good, that means that he probably has a good life. I don’t want to ruin that for him. I can’t focus on my work, I can never focus on my work but it’s worse today.
The bell rings, everyone is out the door, ready to get home or hang out with friends. I start to walk over to the bus, I get pushed and shoved in the hallway. My arm stings once it hits a teacher. They see me wince, they ask if I'm okay.
“I’m fine,” I say irritatedly. The sleeves to my sweater are partially rolled up, you can see a bit of the red on my arm peeking out. The teacher looks concerned. I quickly turn away.
I’m on the bus, I was able to get a seat alone. Everyone is being loud, like they’re screaming at each other. Their talking about how their weekend was, and how their hang outs were, it’s stupid. I never get invited to those.
I’m outside my house, I don’t want to go in, I’m scared. There's a white car parked outside, it’s not my mothers. I work up the courage to go inside. There's people talking to my mother, she seems confused and frustrated. You can see that her eyebrows are slightly furrowed, she's trying to hide it, but why? Who is she with? The man motioned for me to sit with them. I walked over slowly. My head's spinning, I’m paying attention to every sound, the scraping of the chair as I slide it to sit, the sound of the clock, everything. They both watch me anxiously as I sit slowly. It’s silent.
“I’m going to be asking you both some questions and I need you to both answer truthfully. It’s a safe environment here,” the man said, breaking the silence first.
“Okay,” I responded with caution while my mother stayed silent.
I don’t know what time it is, I don’t know where the clock is, in this new place I don’t know where anything is. My room is empty, there's no mess, no dirty dishes, this is not my home. There's no mother on the first floor. I’m alone. I’m not used to this silence, it's strange. My mother may have been a bad person but it still hurts when she's gone, all I wished was for her to show her love. I’m sitting in my bed, it's comfortable and not stiff like mine. I’ve really reached the end of my world.