But Make it the Fucked Up Version Where the World has Gone to Shit

Chapter Three: Kindergarten

The first day of kindergarten arrived, bright and early. I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside, but instead of feeling excited, a heavy knot twisted in my stomach. My backpack sat by the door, shiny and new, but it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Mom helped me pick out my clothes - a red shirt with a smiling dinosaur. I liked dinosaurs, but even that couldn't lift the fog that clouded my thoughts. I watched her tie my shoes, her hands moving quickly, but my heart raced slower. I didn't want to go.

When we arrived at school, the building loomed large and unfamiliar. Kids laughed and ran in every direction, but I felt small and invisible. Mom knelt down and gave me a hug, her smile bright and reassuring. "You'll make new friends," she said, but I could only nod, feeling tears prick at my eyes.

As we walked inside, the noise grew louder. The smell of crayons and paper filled the air, but it was overwhelming. I clung to my backpack, wishing I could hide inside it. The classroom was colorful, filled with toys and bright posters, but it all felt so strange. I wanted my room, my toys, my safe place.

The teacher, Ms. Clara, greeted us with a big smile. "Welcome, everyone!" she said. "Let's find our seats!" I shuffled to a tiny desk in the corner, my heart racing. Other kids gathered in groups, laughing and talking, but I felt like I was standing in a glass box, watching the world go by.

I tried to join a group playing with blocks, but when I spoke, my voice felt tiny and far away. The other kids didn't seem to notice me. They laughed and built tall towers while I sat quietly, wishing I could disappear. I wanted to ask to play, but my words tangled in my throat.

At snack time, I opened my bag and pulled out my peanut butter sandwich. I looked around, hoping someone would sit with me, but the tables were filled with laughter and chatter. I felt the weight of loneliness settle on my shoulders. I took a small bite, but it felt dry in my mouth.

As the day went on, the noise and activity swirled around me, but I felt trapped in my own bubble. When it was time to go outside for recess, I stood by the door, watching the kids run and play. I wanted to join them, but fear held me back. What if they didn't want me? What if I couldn't keep up?

Eventually, I mustered the courage to step outside. I wandered over to the swings, hoping they would bring me comfort. As I swung back and forth, I saw others playing tag, their laughter ringing in the air. I smiled a little, but the joy felt distant, like a warm breeze that never reached me.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of recess, I felt a mix of relief and sadness. I wanted to go home, to be back in my safe space, but I also longed for connection. The day dragged on, each minute stretching painfully.

Finally, when the bell rang to end the day, I rushed out of the classroom and spotted Mom waiting by the door. Her face lit up as she saw me, but I couldn't muster a smile. I felt empty inside, like a balloon that had lost its air.

On the drive home, she asked about my day, her voice full of hope. But as I stared out the window, watching the trees blur by, I could only shake my head. "It was... okay," I said, even though it felt like a lie.

I wanted to be brave, to make friends and enjoy kindergarten, but the day had felt heavy and lonely. As we pulled into our driveway, I wished I could press a button and rewind time, to stay in the safety of home, away from the noise and the fear. I didn't know how to explain it, but I felt like a small boat lost in a vast ocean, searching for a shore that felt too far away.