Distant Hearts

Evreyday

My eyes strained to open, a dim light filling my dark room. I raised my palm rubbing the sleep from my face. My eyes focused on the shining screen of a boy curled up with a blue stuffed mouse. Soft murmurs whispered from his lips. His chest rose and dropped with every inhale and exhale he made. He was still asleep. I felt the corners of my mouth curl into a smile. I ran my fingers against the screen, them edging over his face and the Skype icon. I chuckled slightly bringing my lips to where his forehead would be. I layed a soft peck on the screen and whisperd,
" I have to go now my Keichi. I want you to have a good day okay?"
I knew he wouldn't reply, but these, were words of encouragement to my Angel.My fingers trailed over his hair, I imaged the black fluff to be as soft as cotton. His closed eyes shook a little, his body moving as he let out soft sleepfull sounds. My eyes scanned the screen edging to the clock. "6:03." I thought to myself this is a new improvement. I gave the screen one more kiss before clicking the red "end call button."
Nearly 10 seconds after, my room was sucked into darkness, my screen dissapering. I layed there stairing into the black, i felt nothing more than to call Keichi back and curl up with him again. But i couldnt. I had school. You might think, school is a wonderfull place! why would i say it like that? For me, school was hell. This is my evreyday routine. I force myself up into the dark my hands running over the white sheets confined to my bed.
My mind runs thoughts through my head, how will i survive today? I gulp down my thoughts and find my feet on the carmel wood floor of my room. I stand up, my hand usuing the wall as comfort. I feel sick. I always feel sick. My socks edge on the oak. I find my door, sticking my foot under it to pull it open. (i dont have a door handle.) In the hallway, the floor is a mash of light and dark wood. It matches my room. I lift my eyes, my brother, sleeps across from my room. He rolls over still in a deep sleep. I step more my hand clenching at the wall. I reach forward pulling a black string. Light illuminates the hallway. The blue gloss walls shine. I look at the bulb, wishing i could be as bright as this mere tool. I shake my head. What a silly thought.
I walk to the stairs, staring at the darker wood. Wood so dark its almost black. I take one foot after another skidding down the wood steps. Downstairs is a darker blue than the hallway. A single light shining up the whole area. My father, a chubby man, sits at the table in the center of the room. His eyes focus on the TV as if i was not noticeable. I step more into ocean blue room, and make my way to the next. A archway separates this room from my parents. I step through it passing the TV and several couches. At the end of the room is a small white dresser, witch atones my clothes.
I pulled open the drawer quietly, so i do not disturb mother. She never gets up with us. I reach in pulling black jeans and a black shirt out. I take the cloth and venture back to my room, My father taking no notice.
I step into my room, my hand resting on the purple door frame. My fingers edged over the glossy paint. I ventured to my window. The glass was cold, ice frozen to the screen. I look past the clear glass. The ground outside is blanketed in white sheets of snow. I let a shallow breath hit the window a cool mist covering the glass. I take my finger edging into the smog, M and K. I smirk to myself my hand reaching up, My fingers grasp a string and pull. A small light filters through my peach colored room. My hand lets go edging around the white sheets pinned to my bed. I sit down. My hands slip and conjoin, slowly, i change into the articles i gathered from the white dresser. A plain black T and black pants.
Black was the color that setteld me. The color my clasmates claimed was MY color. The color of death. This was stained to my skin like ink, or a burn. I was forever labled. The girl who wears black.My hair, a settle black with dark red streaks was a mess, but i didnt care. When you are like me, you tend not to care anymore. The things you once enjoyed are nothing but numb memories to people like me. People who have lost their feelings. I say that as it is an evreyday event, but in truth, it is rare. It happens to the people in the back. The ones not noticed, or the ones shunned by society. These people are like me, filled to the brim with black. A black smog, or monster who NEVER leaves. Depression.
I open my eyes to the loud nausiating screams of my brother. I sit up reaching on my floor for the black hoodie i own. I slip it on. It is big and falls on my body smoothly. He yells and yells and yells. I grab my backpack and my headphones and rush outside. I slip the silicone into my ears and drift letting the music take me away as i await for the bus. The yellow contraption that would take me away to another day in hell.