Life Of Bayla

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It's funny how you instantly form a habit of blocking out reality when it bites you in the ass. It's also sad how no matter how much you try to tune it out, it always comes back to you, fucking you up even more as it throws more shit your way.

It's been days since I had walked out during dinner. Everyone's been worried. They're confused as to what's possibly wrong with me. I dont think it'll surprise me if Dad wants to introduce me to a therapist. Crazy how I dont even know what's wrong with me. I feel all sorts of emotions: sad, free from a web of lies and fear, desponding, disheartened, dispirited, dejected, broken, tired, etcetera. All of it combined, I guess, gives a little bit of meaning to my current state.

I've been holed up in my room for days on end, sitting on this same bean bag with my legs drawn up to my chest and just staring out my window, entertaining myself with the flakes of snow falling to the white ground like crystals. I haven't been eating. Trust me, I've tried but I just cant. Anytime I put food in my mouth and manage to swallow it, it doesn't take up to seconds when it crawls back up my throat and I hurl it out. Mom cried one time when I tried to eat some yogurt at the breakfast table but ended up kecking it out in the sink.

Today was just like any other day for me. I was perched on my beanbag, wearing clothes I hadn't changed out of for God knows how long, with my knees drawn up to my chest, my arms wrapped around it and just staring at the snow fall like ice crystals from the puffy clouds.

The cold bit at my skin and naturally, goosebumps arose but I didn't shiver. I was numb to it all; the cold, the pain, the world.

~~~~~

A soft hand gently brushed away a stray strand of hair from my forehead. I leaned into the hand as it gave me warmth and comfort; something I was in need of even in my sleep.

"Wake up, miel", cooed the soft voice.

My eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the sunlight that had streaked into my room from the slats of my window. I dont remember opening them up.

"Mom?" My voice was hoarse from all the crying I've done and the latter unuse. I didn't bother clearing my throat, knowing it wasn't going to be useful.

Mom smiled at me and her blue eyes shone. "Miel, get up and shower. You haven't done that in a while".

I snorted. "That obvious?"

She chuckled. "I think the smell is a dead give away".

I couldn't stop the smile, though small, from spreading across my face. "Why, though? It's not like I'm going anywhere".

"Well, you're wrong about that part". Her eyes had a crafty gleam in them. "We're going shopping today. You, me, Marion and Eleanor".

My eyes bulged out and I sat up in bed, as straight as a pole. "What?"

"Oh, I said you, me, Marion and Ele-"

"No, I got that part", I cut her off. "I'm talking about the shopping thing". Realizing I was actually puzzled about everything she said, I said, "Actually. I dont get anything. Could you please elaborate? How did Marion and Eleanor get to know each other in the first place?"

Mom giggled. "Funny how much one can miss out on in the span of days, eh? While you were on your social hibernation, Marion had been coming over a lot. She and Ian are really serious so we see her face almost everyday. Aaron broke up with his girlfriend. What's her name again? I think she's named after a place..." Mom rubbed her chin, trying to remember Parrys' name so I supplied it. She snapped her fingers. "Yes, that's the one. Aaron ended things with her and started hanging out more with that pretty red-head, Eleanor". Mom smiled as she mentioned her name. "Such a sweetheart. Way better than the brunette".