Depression, a term used way too lightly. I go through my day hearing everyone say things like, 'I have so much homework it's depressing,' or 'My mom won't let me go out this weekend. I'm so depressed."
People in this ratty old town don't understand the significance of depression. Everyone thinks it is just a 'phase,' or just that we do it for a chance in the spotlight.
I've had the spotlight. I had it when my mom died. I had it when my sister ran off with her boyfriend's sister. I had it when my dad was nicknamed the crazy person. He was the only person who understood that being depressed was not in my control. I was not sick, and I am still not sick. What makes me sick is this class. The slight chill from the poor insulation. The low sound of the flickering fluorescent lights look like they could fall out of the roof at any given second. The way the splintering floors creak when the slightest pressure is put on them. The way people are all talking over the poor teacher who is just trying to do what she loves. The fact they all think the world revolves around them. They use people like straws, one use and to the trash, they go.
I'll admit, I used to be one of those people, thinking the world would just stop at my command. That changed as life slowly started chipping away at my innocent soul.
"You know, maybe if you started paying attention in class he wouldn't have been sent away."
"Thanks, Destiny, I'll keep that in mind next time. You know, when he comes back. But it's not like you'd know anything about having a family, didn't yours leave?"
Okay maybe I went too far with mentioning her family, but hey, if you want to mention him, nothing is too far.
"Miss Heart, please refrain from bothering your classmates. I understand you're going through something and you miss him, but you don't get to take it out on your classmates," Mrs. Valentina exclaimed.
It really is hard here. This town is making me crazy. I get mad when people say it was my fault the accident happened. I agree with them; it's my fault I'm alone. Maybe if I hadn't told my dad he had to stop being weird he wouldn't be gone. Maybe if I hadn't snuck out to that party my mom would still be here. Maybe if I hadn't been such a bother to my sister she wouldn't have left me. Maybe if I had noticed sooner he would be sitting next to me right now. They're not here and I have to accept that, but that doesn't mean I won't get these people back for what they did to him.
These wood walls close in on me as Mrs. Valentina continues on with her lesson. Everything starts to feel like too much. I don't understand why everything is wood. I don't understand why everyone is talking. I don't understand why everyone had to bully him. I don't understand why my friends felt the need to use me. I just don't understand how little kids can make someone feel so inferior for just trying to be happy. I just don't understand.
I guess that's why he broke. I guess that's why I am breaking. They all say depression is feeling sad, it's more than that. It's feeling like you have no control; it's like drowning, but you're unsure if you want to keep swimming. Like it might be easier to just stop. I'd like to say I'm a nice person, so I see no reason not to take all these people with me when I stop swimming. They always say I'm like him, they say I'm just as crazy, as weird, as quiet. Yet, they never say the nice things about him. This town can never remember the hours he spent at the church, the days he spent volunteering at the school, the days in the heat he spent replanting trees after the big storm.
He always loved the number three. Well, it's been three years, 36 months, 156 weeks, 1069 days, and 26303 hours. One more hour until we will be reunited. One more hour until the voices will stop. One more hour until I will be free from this dying world.
"Miss Heart, would you mind telling us about what is so intriguing about your thoughts, as they seem to be more important than what I am teaching?"
"You know Mrs. V, I would love to. I want to know what you all had against him?"
"Him?"
"Yes, him. The one you all treated as an object till he broke. The one you used and loved until he asked for something in return, then he was just the friendless loser, right?"
"What about Derek's fish? He said it was going to die, then the next day it was dead. Plus he said Mr. Day would become fat, and what about Mr. Tree's hair?"
"Look, new kid, you never even met him, so you don't get to talk. Plus, Derek was feeding his fish cat food, Mr. Day was on a purely chocolate diet, and Mr. Tree bought hair removal, not shampoo. You know what, enough! I think you are all just selfish!" I all but scream at them. "You all act like you were all so innocent after he died like you didn't tell him every day that he was worthless. Maybe I didn't stand up for him as I should have, but at least I can admit it! You are all so pathetic, you think that just because you smiled at him one time you can call yourself his friend! He was all I had in this world and you took him from me!"
I understand that they might be confused, but they don't get to be confused. Murderers don't get to be confused. They took him out of this world, so I'll take them out of it too. So with one last satisfied grin, I light the match and drop it on the splintering old wood floors as I say, "I'll see you on the other side, brother."
The End
