- seven.
Break
ᵃˡᵉˣ_ᵍ_ᵒᶠᶠˡᶦⁿᵉ
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————●———the
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻
What is an adult?
Becoming one didn't suddenly transform me into anything outstanding or significant. I am 18 and entirely unremarkable. Languishing in the wilds of nowhere, Caribbean. In this tomb of a house left to me by my brilliant and selfish mother.
She's not dead. Though she pretends I am.
Permanently neglected. Literature is one of my solaces in solitude. And art is my only mean of escape. Because you see... I've never left the edges of this place. It's positively gothic.
Lonely girl longs to escape the interminable boredom of her small country. Lonely girl longs to be meaningful. Lonely girl longs to be loved.
Lonely girl has been ditched by her best friend by, you'll never guess, her jackass bitch boyfriend. I've become a chore to Melanie and she's been exhausting to stay friends with.
All I wanted was some ice cream, but she held his hand so tight and refused so surely and confidently that I doubt I'd ever not be set aside at some point in any relationship.
She didn't apologize. Not after it had been three weeks. This was worse than graduation night. This was deliberate.
But this isn't the time to lament about being second best to my only friend. I had bigger problems. Like how the art career might not open until September and I was possibly stuck in this hellhole for one or two entire semesters. It was disheartening. But for the first time, I refuse to lose hope.
So, in the words of the Smiths:
"Please, please, please let me get what I want. Lord knows it would be the first time."
But even if I had cried all week because I'm getting replaced by a boy and because maybe I'll never be remarkable and because my school sucks, today I was gonna cry harder.
Today was the last day of the term and I am too close to retching in the toilet bowl due to the stress. The choice of clothing was awful, too. I've no idea why I went for the wool, long-sleeve top but I did and I hate it.
FUCK!
I'm biting my nails and plucking my lashes off and I want to scream and cry because I don't know if I'll pass arithmetic and I'm so bad at it and I want to cry and scream and keep crying and keep screaming and then maybe I'll die of dehydration.
But I'm stupid in many ways. Which is why I got to class earlier and sat on the back, cheating the entire time with my phone in my thighs. I needed to pass this piece of shit or I was gonna have to see it again next semester and then I would kill myself.
When I finished, I made sure to get up carefully as to not give away the phone. Hands quivering, I place my sheet on the professor's desk. He looks up at me and smirks. Fuck you, Alexander.
He goes over it Speedy Gonzales with his cheap red pen and he tells me to sit and wait.
This is it. I'm completely and utterly fucked. I bite my nails and bounce my leg, observing every swipe of the pen across the sheet filled with scribbles and eraser shavings. I'm fucked.
"Marie, when was the last time you were hospitalized?"
He looks at me with that shit-eating grin and my ears perk up. I'm so fucked I'm gonna be hospitalized.
"Congratulations"
He scoffs and the gates of heaven have opened and I can hear the lord and all his mighty angels sing to me and shriek and do a victory fist and I fucking leap!
CONGRATU-FUCKING-LATIONS and fuck you, Alexander!
I'm out of there by the second and the colors are bright, the sun is shining, the people are lovely and I'm so happy to be alive.
There's overcooked mushy spaghetti for lunch but after this, that sounds exquisite and I can't believe life is so beautiful.
There I am, chewing with that big fucking grin on my face. Sat alone, as always but who gives a flying fuck? I'm a genius!
"Marie"
I turn my head and woah! Can this day get any better? Well of course I'd like to join you for lunch, gorgeous gorgeous hallway crush!
I'm a seat away from him and some other good-looking guy.
"How was your day?"
Christian asks.
"I passed arithmetic!"
I do a stupid squeal and regret it right after.
"Really? That's awesome! Congrats. Tutoring worked after all, huh?"
Yeah. Tutoring.
"P.E. major?"
His friend across from me asks.
"Art"
"Oh yeah? Why art"
"I love art"
"What do you love about art?"
"Freedom. Unlike math, there is creative liberty. There are no rules you need to follow, there are no fuck ups because nothing is right or wrong. As though with math, there is a set of rules and laws you need to follow to get a correct result"
"Clever. What major do you think I am?"
"Uhm...Social Sciences?"
"Yeah!"
This guy laughs, something about his tone is off and the way he side-eyes Christian and laughs tells me something and suddenly, I'm 10 again and being bullied by my classmates.
I don't catch the cue, but it does feel like they're making fun of me. Christian laughs too and it feels like a tiny sting.
"Hey, whatcha think about tutoring?"
Christian's voice snaps me out of it.
"Hm? Oh, m'not sure"
"Ah...would you help me with a few lesson plan things though? I promise is not much"
He wants my help?
"Uh- sure. My number's in the group chat"
And he waves goodbye when I wish him a nice vacation. And maybe this isn't so bad anymore and crushing is actually fun and I'm not a complete failure and I'll actually be remarkable achieve something and Melanie's a cunt and my life will go on and I'll keep passing my semesters.
Maybe I do know what it is to be an adult.
