Socially Detached

(Ch4) September 20th, 6:30 PM

I'm sitting at my desk, surrounded by what is probably 100 different unfinished stories I've written over the past few years. I've probably been sitting here for an hour, just reading the first few sentences before throwing the story off to the side. None of these are good enough to win the competition.

I've got about 40 pieces that don't even make past two pages, and they don't even have any good base of a story to use. It's all just nonsense. I sit back in my chair and sigh. I'll have to come to terms with the fact that I'll have to start completely from scratch. It's not ideal, but I don't have a choice. Winning this competition could mean actually getting started on my own career as a writer. Winning could mean that I don't have to keep saying "I want to be a writer," anymore. I could just say "I am a writer." Winning could mean... I would have something to actually show for myself. I wouldn't have to keep hiding from my old life back home.

"Back home," I say out loud. I laugh. Back home? Home is less than a 45 minute drive. It's only across one state line. But it's far enough, that I can almost completely guarantee that I won't see anyone I used to know. Almost.

Almost two years ago, when I was just finishing my move in, I had seen someone from back home. I was bringing in groceries from my car to my apartment, and I had seen him helping his grandmother into his car. I knew his grandmother— not that she was his grandmother, but I knew her as the sweet old woman who lived in the building across from mine in the same complex. Time stood still when I recognized his face. I had remembered all of the nasty things he— and the others— had done to me. I had moved away to avoid those feelings. Bile rose up in my throat in the five seconds I had stopped and stared. The brown paper bag I was holding my groceries in was beginning to break— I had my nails sunken so far into the bag it was caving in. I turned around and almost slammed myself into my apartment door trying to get inside.

I remember I had closed all of the curtains and sat on my bathroom floor, sweating, for what felt like hours. However, when I had gotten up, it was only 15 minutes.

That was the only time I had seen someone from home. He must have been only visiting for a brief moment, because I didn't see him any time after that.

My thoughts were interrupted by my phone buzzing from inside my backpack. I fish it out and see that I have several text notifications from numbers I don't know. I unlock my phone and see I've actually been put into a group chat.

8605555599: HI EMMA! THIS IS OLIVIA FROM MARKETING. WE MADE A GROUP CHAT SO WE CAN DISCUSS OUR GROUP PROJECT :-P

8605555522: HI EMMA!! SAVE ME AS JESSICA!!! <3

I set my phone down and sigh. I should have lied earlier and said I don't own a phone, but they would have seen right through that. Who doesn't own a phone in today's world?

I take a deep breathe and pick my phone back up again. At least I have some group members for this project. It could always, always be worse.

ME: HI GUYS. THANKS FOR THE GROUP CHAT. I CAN EMAIL PROFESSOR DEIDRICK ABOUT OUR GROUP CHOICE.

I didn't even get to set my phone down before I got hit with more buzzes.

8605555599: NO NEED!! WE ALREADY DID THAT!!

8605555522: WE SHOULD HAVE A GROUP MEETING AFTER CLASS ON MONDAY ABOUT WHAT WE SHOULD BE DOING :)

8605555599: SOUNDS GOOD!!

Wow. So many exclamation marks.

ME: WORKS FOR ME.

I set down my phone again. I'm glad that they didn't want to do a video chat or anything. I can't stand video calls.

I look down at my backpack, and see my marketing notebook sticking out. Didn't I have writing in there? I grab the notebook and flip through the pages.

It's almost all completely scratched out pieces... except for the water nymph paragraphs I had written a few days ago. I read over a few sentences. They aren't terrible. I'll put it in the 'maybe' pile. That makes it the first one.