Cam's Guide to Navigating Rock Bottom

5 - Bitter

C H A P T E R 5

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If a year ago you told me I would spend my Friday evening holed up in the William Stone Memorial library; I would not believe you.

If anything I would have laughed in your face, citing the ridiculousness of the whole ordeal. I mean, I had never been an academic and until recently; could count the amount of times I studied in my life on my hands and feet. The gag is that I probably would not have used all my digits.

How the mighty have truly fallen.

The cause of such? Integrals that were printed across plain white paper. Maths wasn't something I struggled at but it wasn't something I cared to learn either. My sister, Camille, was more the science type (particularly biology and chemistry), and Ezekiel leaned towards the accounting side of maths and business. I fell nowhere in between.

I hadn't developed a love for academia in any sense of the word. No matter how much my parents, teachers, and any authoritative role pushed me, I never had the drive to do so.

My desires talents and abilities were forgotten the moment I turned thirteen. I had been stripped away of any sort of identity.

Any affiliation to music was long forgotten. In retaliation, I refused to conform. It seems that in the long run, it was to my disadvantage.

My strengths had been diminished into mere phases by all those who surrounded me. Talents were reduced to a mere party trick.

In the case of Cameron Elora Alvarez: who cared if once in her life she bordered on being a prodigy? Her weaknesses were glaringly obvious when placed in such a conventional environment.

The Granite hillside was superficial in that sense.

Everyone was expected to fit a mold. And that included being exceptional in academics and sporting activities. Trivialities such as music and art were only used as a way to one-up the other. Never as something to place at the forefront.

"Fuck," the expletives exit my mouth when MATHS ERROR flashed across the calculator screen.

The table rattled violently echoing in the empty library. Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at the unsolved question. A question I had been attempting for the last forty-eight minutes.

At any hint of failure, my mother's words echoed in my mind, reminding me of what was at stake.

Instead of it coming out as encouraging, as it had meant to be, it had been harsh, and all-round demotivating. My mind seemed only able to function when it was to my detriment.

If I sat here any longer I would lose my sanity and I had done so much to salvage what little I had left. So I stood up. My movement lacks any form or grace.

The chair teetered backward and I let it fall. No concern for library etiquette. But the longer it lay limply on the floor the more I began to feel guilty. My gaze downcast I picked it up before brushing off the scuff.

Only when I glanced up I was met with a familiar presence. One who surveyed the scene with a scrutiny.

Shame flooded my being and under his gaze, I felt so ... naked. It felt as if all my problems were printed across my being in bright neon lettering. And he was currently reading each one with pinpoint precision.

"How long have you been standing there ?" I sighed as I began to pile my books into my bag.

I tried to appear as calm and collected as I could but my shaking hands were a dead giveaway of the insecurity that seemed to reflect in my tone. I was a mess.