(we're a) Fine Line {HS}

XXII - Blocked

School has become harder. I haven't cried in a long time, though, so I've become dryer and even depressive I would say. I hate how everyone looks too much happy around me while my world falls apart for over an entire school year. Maybe I deserve this.

I failed my exams. I didn't try to pass them anyway, I don't want to go to collage anymore. Life only has one meaning to me now: music with Harry. And that implies focusing on Harry, wherever he is, however I do it, and ending with all this bullshit.

I've killed myself thinking about this. I've been having nightmares, and I never was a person to have nightmares. At least not every single night.

My mother and I are in better terms, after a major, but essential, argument some days ago. At my miserable grades, she thought I didn't know what to do with my life anymore and didn't even care about it. Of course I explained to her the best I could that I do know what to do with my life, in fact, even better now than ever before. She knows I've always wanted to do something related to music, just now I have the most certain I could have possibly ever had that that's actually all I want to do full time, after those weeks with Harry. I don't care what people think, I don't care what she thinks and I'm starting to feel sick of this. I am going to fight the whole world if I need to, to have him back. Even if it is in vain, at least I know I tried.

And I snaped; I told her how I've been truly feeling. About the nightmares and the depression feeling. I speaked desperately, and thankfully it afected her. She got surprised that I didn't told her that, and how I have been able to handle that on my own. "Well, I haven't, that's the problem!" I told her, adding that I needed her. I guess she finaly realised the impact all of this is having on me, at it. She got a little more comprehensive about it and I appreciate it. It's a little bit too late now but I still appreciate it.

~~~~~

How I wish I could skip the day, today. It's all the same issue as last Christmas and New Year; I don't want to celebrate anything. As well as I don't have the mood for it, I don't have reasons to. And yet, here I am whatching my birthday candles burning above a cake as simple as the one before. Never thought I'd be this sad on one of my birthdays, even less the one where I turn eighteen.

If only things were to happen this summer instead of the last one...

"Happy birthday, Sweetheart." My mother repeats, one year after, only this time more hesitantly and lowly. I calmly snap from my thoughts and look away from the flames I was blindly watching illuminating my face, under a dark day light such as the one entering in the living room. Ironicly enough, it's raining today. It may not be the first time it rains on my birthday, but it surely never felt more related.

Still I try to let out a smile to her in thank you. But unsuccessfuly, though, so I stand up from the chair I was sitting on to hug her, hoping it wouldn't be too obvious. It was a good hug, a meaningful one, somehow.

Eventually, and just like last year, she ends up giving me a ticket as what I understand it being my birthday present. A similar shape to the previous one, which I still keep to this day, and, apparently, similar writings. I frown thinking what is her intention of wanting me to go to a concert in this conditions. Maybe she thinks it would be good for me? I don't think so that much.

"I know how much this would mean to you, and all I want is for you to be okay... for us to be okay." She says calmly whatching my expression as I read the letters properly. It is not for a concert, but a flight ticket to Los Angeles, two days from today.

"The trial will be on day 17, 6 o'clock in the afternoon." She adds while I snap my expressionless face up from the ticket to her words. My eyes tremble as I try to get a hold on my emotions. But yet, there is none.

My heart doesn't skip more beats than it has been doing for months. There's not even a drop of an ocean somewhere to open a door to all its equals in my eyes. I've already cried them all. I keep wide open eyes at my mother, not understanding what I'm feeling nor if I am actually feeling anything at all. Only my hands show what they're holding means, but they don't let the information reach my bain, shaking in order to not let that happen.

I remain blocked as my mom hugs me again, leaving me to stare at the air where she was standing in front of me, not being able to do anything at all. She rubs my back and hair and adds lowly but determinedly, giving me goosebumps at the eagerly realisation, "Go tell them you're not a minor anymore."