The Secrets You Keep

Two....

“My favorite place to go used to be the woods. I would go for long walks, down
unmarked trails that throughout time, I had made. I would find my creek and sit with my feet in
the cool water and watch the little minnows nibble at my toes. I never brought anyone into the
woods with me. It was MY place. The only place outside of under my blanket I ever felt normal.
Safe. You could say I was hiding from myself when I went there. All the noises would block out
the voices in my head. But that's just my normal.
There's only so much noise a person can take.”
Most of the time I don't understand who I am. Or why I am this way. I didn't have a bad
childhood. I was energetic and free. It wasn’t until I got into middle school that I started slipping.
I would say my heart hurts but i have grown so numb too the pain, there is no way to know what
is or isn't real anymore. I used to have passions. I used to have dreams. But my father left for a
military base when I was in the 7th grade and never came back. Then my mom started working
constantly so i was always alone. And so on and so forth. I just slowly shut down and haven't
had the resources i need to get better, if that's even a possibility. I go to therapy and just sit
there staring at my therapist's while they sit and watch me. They have gotten so used to it they
don't even take notes on what i do when i'm being watched. I don't do anything. I don't fidget. I
don't avoid eye contact. I don't get distracted. I just simply don't do anything. You would think
that they would all gave up and leave me alone, but instead they just keep the process going
and forcing me to spend an hour of my day multiple times a week sitting in a plush
not­so­comfortable sofa in the corner of an office doing absolutely nothing but breathing.
When the school day comes I float in between classes, nobody pays attention or asks
anymore why i don't smile or laugh when the rest of the room is completely engulfed in nothing
but chaos before the period begins. My teachers don't bother me because although i'm an
antisocial pessimist, i'm flawless with my work. I simply sit in the back of the room by myself,
inside my mind getting what needs to be done finished so that i can go back to my isolated
mind.
I could force myself to talk, yeah. I could force myself to be “normal”. But i choose not
too. Because with being normal comes emotion. Emotion that i cannot even begin to
comprehend anymore, let alone control or use. This is who i have become Who i will be maybe
forever. I got abandoned a long time ago by my friends. They all gave up on trying to fix me. But the thing with that is, why would you try to fix something that can't be fixed, or refuses to be. It
may be painful, and lonely, and a very damaged way too live life, but it's the road i have
committed too. At least when i'm alone i can't be hurt anymore by those who try to bring me
down.
Today was, unfortunately, a Monday. Which means i have to go to school. Fall in line
with the fake people in the fake halls and the fake classes. Listen to lectures from teachers who
are only preaching what they have to in order to get their pay whenever it comes in. Watch
people walk around me as if i'm just a piece of cement floating along the tides of the average
High School surf. Eat lunches that may as well be cardboard for all anyone can taste.
So i get up at the same time, get in the shower, blow dry my hair so that the natural curls
don't frizz out and make me feel even heavier than usual. Pull on a grey sweater, a random pair
of grey sweatpants­that always have pockets­ and running sneakers. Make my way out to my
basic car with it's basic interior, and drive to my basic school. That seems to be my daily routine.
Only sometimes i swap out the sweatpants and sneakers for jeans and boots. It's a comfort
thing i suppose.
When i pull into the school parking lot after a half hour of silent driving, there is
absolutely no other students there, just how i like it. I park my car, float up the side­walk through
the glass doors to my locker, and slump into it as i undo the lock. The amount of effort it takes
for me too even do this is almost to extreme for the average person to understand. You could
almost say that i have 50 pound weights strapped to both of my ankles and wrists dragging me
down to the floor. It's almost inhumane. So I pull open my locker door with 35 minutes until my
first class starts. Chemistry is probably the hardest class to get through during the day, because
you cannot get by without working in pairs or in a group. That simple idea stresses me out more
than taking every single test that is required to be taken by a high school student, put together.
I trudge along to the classroom and push open the door. My chem teacher gives his
usual tired nod in my direction while i make my way to the back corner lab table by the
emergency window. I tend to always sit in the back right corner of the classroom so that i can
see everyone and everything. I can see the tell tale whispers of gossip among the girls, and the
passing of notes from one table to the opposite ends of the room. I can see the teacher’s
constant crease by his left eyebrow while teaching, showing that they’re either too stressed or
too tired to spend so many hours surrounded by the common immaturity of the youth. You’d
think that this would be amusing, but honestly it is so boring, that a child with ADHD would
probably fall into a deep sleep in a high school classroom. But maybe that’s just me. Life does
tend to get boring when you’re alone twenty­four­seven. But as Blaise Pascal once said “All
man’s miseries derive from not being able to sit quietly in a room alone.” If this is the complete
utter truth, then i would have this whole ‘living’ thing in the bag.
I was looking over the notes on the Kinetic Theory when the first few students being too
walk into the room. There's that nerd named Abigail who refuses to answer too Abby. Then there's the starting line up for the school’s basketball team, being rowdy as ever. Following is
the head cheerleader Mack and her duplicates, Sarah and Kennedy. The rest of the class is
made up of hipster­wanna­be’s and others like the that typically go unnoticed. The bell for
homeroom rings, the teacher takes attendance, and class begins. All while I remain ­as
intended­ invisible.
The class goes by for about 20 minutes without any new disturbances, of course there
are the typical arguments and whispers and cracks at the lesson from the jocks, but all of a
sudden there’s this horrible itch in my throat. Now I know that this shouldn’t be that big of a deal,
everyone has coughing fits for scratchy throats, but i have never had one in the middle of class.
And if i cough then people are gonna look at me, and if people look at me then i become
un­invisible. I guess you could say that being the way i have been for the last four years or so
has given me a fear of social interaction. Perhaps even my biggest fear is being acknowledged.
But the coughing fit still ends up winning and the entire class is staring. I pull all my books into
my bag ­still coughing­ and walk out of the room. I stand in the hallway on the side of the class
door for a second and catch my breath. The shaking has already begun and i'm pretty sure i'm
already slightly hyperventilating. There is still 35 minutes left of the class. That's 35 minutes i
have to hide in the bathroom for. It happens a lot.
So i'm waiting in the bathroom stall and two girls walk in to fix lip­gloss and hair and
gossip. I pull my feet up so that they don't notice i'm in here. Unintentionally, I listen in on their
conversation.
“You know that girl Sam?” The blonde asks the brunette.
“The one that hasn’t spoken since middle school?” Blondy nods. “What about her”
Brunette peers at herself in the mirror, zeroing in on a soon to be zit. She makes a face.
“I heard that she had a coughing fit and got up and left Mr. Bryant’s room a few minutes
ago. I almost forgot that she even went here.” Blondy says in that ridiculous ‘i am gossiping pay
attention to me’ voice that every teenage girl uses.
“Really that’s weird”
“Yeah, Rachelle sent me a text about it. She said that it was super random. And that
Sam was crying.”
Yeah. I'm having a coughing fit. And definitely crying like a two year old about it. God,
why do people have to be so stupid around here. I put my feet down, get up and slam the stall
door open. Causing both of them too jump and look at me wide­eyed. I walk over to the mirror
and pull my hair back into a messy bun. Both Blondy and Brunette just stand there watching my
every mood like i'm about to freak out or have a spaz attack or something. I give them a look
and just walk out, dragging my bag on the floor behind me. I feel sorry for these girls honestly. I
really do. They have no idea how awful the world gets, and once they realize it they're probably
gonna crash and burn the same way I did.

I guess they have it coming.​