Grey.

6.

Chapter 6 - Late August

The sound of my alarm echoed through my bedroom and the rest of the studio.

"Jesus Christ." I exclaim, groggily picking my body up from off the bed. I slam my hand down on the alarm in an anxious haste and catch my breath as I regain my balance. I walk into the kitchen, as the lingering smell of the cookies Harry and Kennedy had made for me wafts into my nose. I breathe deeply, attempting to ground myself. I walk over to the back sliding glass door and stare outside. The rain from the past few days finally subsided and left my grandfather's property looking greener than usual. I turn back around and look at the plate of cookies. A thin layer of saran wrap kept the cookies fresh, and a small note from Harry and Kennedy read "I hope you enjoy!!!!!!!"

The enthusiasm was obvious with the amount of exclamation points that had been written, and the writing was expressive and soft. I can tell that Kennedy was the scribe in this situation. I peel back the saran wrap and take a bite from one of the cookies. Maybe not the most nutritious choice for a breakfast, but I've been neglecting going to the store for the last few days so they're really all I have. The cookie is delicious and pairs well with the leftover iced coffee I have in my fridge. After eating, I grabbed my phone from off my nightstand and re-read the message exchange between Aliyah and I from the previous night. I shake my head. It's hard to rid myself of this bitterness when I think about all the freedom Aliyah has, and how she left me to rot in the prison cell my mother had originally built for us. I want to be happy for her, but at this point anything involving her happiness is something that makes me feel ill. I know how selfish I'm being, I mean, I was the one who messaged her in the first place, but now I couldn't care less to continue the conversation. I click the power button on my phone and place it back onto my nightstand. I walk into my bathroom and thoughtlessly prepare for my day ahead. As the hours pass by, I dread the thought about driving to school and going to class, although I've always loved creative writing. The day droned on, and the class was just another hour and a half of disclosures and a strict syllabus.

I walk out of my creative writing class in a distracted haze. My mind wanders and shifts like uneven tides. I often don't feel real when I'm in the presence of large crowds. The reality of all of their conflicting lives and beliefs makes me feel overwhelmed and suffocated. I always forget how real; one's life feels when you're surrounded by other people's energy. Even if they don't notice or validate your own.

The gray pavement beneath my feet clacks against the heels of my black boots, and the sound beats rhythmically in the back of my mind. I look back up at the sidewalk ahead of me and observe the people making their way to different parts of the campus. A part of me hopes to see Harry, though I'm trying to pretend that's not true. 

As I walk past the weeping willow tree Harry and I had sat under a few weeks ago, I sigh. The leaves were so much more lifeless when he wasn't around. No longer framing the gold in his eyes, the tree seems drab and almost fake.

The disheartening reality of having no grip on your life, or plan for the future makes one feel this way. That although life exists around you, it doesn't exist for you. You are merely a shadow in someone else's story, and that is becoming intoxicatingly clear to me as I try to do more things for myself. I make it to my car and step inside, gently placing the key in the ignition. My eyes are glazed, so I rub them in an attempt to make things more visible, which does not work.

"Shit." I mutter to myself.

I continue to rub my eyes and I take a breath. I look at the time on my phone and it reads 4pm. I read my notifications and noticed several emails from my therapist asking if I was still going to make it to my appointment. My stomach lurches when I realize I was supposed to be there 30 minutes ago. Quickly, I put my car in reverse backing out of my parking space, paying little attention to the environment around me. Suddenly, I feel my car jump forward and hear a loud clamor from behind.