Nobody, Not Even The Rain

one - the sun and the moon

i.

School made me want to stab myself. Most of the time, anyway. It wasn't even because of the school work or the people there. It just had the general atmosphere that made one want to die from their own hand. Better by yourself than by boredom.

The classrooms smelt like stale vomit. The schoolyard was ruined with the failed attempts to hide litter. School was just a daily depression centre.

He was the only reason I kept going.

He was the only reason whatsoever.

ii.

My school bag weighed the same as a baby elephant, but I would walk the long way home if it meant I got off at the same stop as him. He sometimes smiled at me when we'd both try and get off of the bus at the same time.

I don't smile back. If I smiled back, the self-centred population of the school would tell me that pessimistic people don't smile and then suspect that he was special, because who else could make me smile?

Only him. Always him.

iii.

I hated people. I really did. People hadn't even really done anything to me; but as music blasted through my earphones, on the loudest setting, I could still hear conversations in the background.

It made last minute homework difficult.

Outside, the rain was pounding against the already dodgy bus. The multicoloured, itchy scarf I was wearing was pulled even more tightly around my neck; the wool was uncomfortable, but my tolerance was rewarded with the warmth the scarf provided.

He had told me the scarf suited me, too.

Not that that had anything to do with why I was still wearing it.

iv.

I don't like to lie, but sometimes it's required.

v.

He was the sun; radiant and full of joy. He brought warmth and happiness everywhere he went.

I was the moon; with me I brought darkness, and discomfort. I made people lose their way and prevented anyone from seeing.

Contradictions; our love could not, and would not, exist.

vi.

Social anxiety started it all.

Everyone from school was at some party, and I was lying on my bed and listening to the rain. It brought more comfort than friends ever would.

He wasn't there either; not that I cared.

vii.

I cared. I cared a lot.

viii.

I worried about the human race. They held no hope for the future.

I worried, and then I remembered I didn't care.

ix.

My teachers often asked me if I had problems at home. I always laughed, because my family loved me and cared for me; the real reason for my difficulties in life was my pessimistic views.

"No," I would say. "My home is fine."

None of them would believe me. None of them cared too much to find out.

x.

I wondered if he had problems at home. He once came to school with a bruise on his face back in grade three. He had told everyone that he had fell, but I don't think anyone else had seen him crying behind the art building that same lunch.

Nobody but me had seen him.

Nobody, not even the rain.