My damp shirt clings to every part of my torso, it’s usual bright green now darkened by the constant sweat pouring from my skin. Only a couple more blocks to go, thank the lord. I’m pretty sure this sun is trying to send me to hell early. The weight of my backpack became too much about an hour ago, only worsening as gravity pulls it down, trying to drag me with it.
I turn the corner to my street, speeding up through the last stretch of the sidewalk. I haven’t exercised this much since I was in middle school and gym class was the bane of my existence. Our hideous baby blue house stands out against the rest of the tan and green houses in the neighborhood. The white trim just makes it more obvious, and my mother wonders why I never admit this is my house. People hate me enough already, I don’t need another strike against my name. I think I earned ten with the Megan incident, I can’t think straight after a couple drinks...
I can hear the television from the front door, the damn History Channel boring me to death from outside my house, why must my brothers do everything in their power to annoy me. I can’t bring myself to walk through the door towards the sound. My arm refuses to reach towards the door handle and twist it open. Every part of my body tells me to turn around and walk away. Why bother going back, no one wants me there anyways. I manage to piss everyone off, it is my special talent.
I stare at the door, my eyes tracing the pattern of the wood while the rest of my body remains still, a statue outside of the house. I am sure they are waiting for me to come home, they must be worrying about me. But, they aren’t. I know they aren’t. No one in my family has given a single shit about me since I was ten years old, from then on I have been the only person to count on. I hear a thud on the ground next to me, a weight finally lifted off my shoulders. I turn and walk away from the front door, backpack sitting on the porch. The murmuring of the television fades as I walk towards my mother’s car, might as well document this new journey. Luckily, the passenger door is unlocked, and I can see the swirling colors of the notebook sitting on the seat. As soon as the textured surface is in my hands, I thrust the door shut, the sound echoing through the silent neighborhood. Checking to make sure I have everything I need, my phone and the notebook, I turn down the street. With every struggled step and sore muscle, I still manage to keep my head high as I walk away from the only thing I’ve ever know, without a single glance behind me.
