Part 1:
As she sat on her bed, gazing at the plan walls of the room around her, she only had a single thought. “What am I doing with my life?” The girl dropped her hands to her sides and looked up to the ceiling. She noticed the imperfections and every detail of that ceiling: the unevenness of the paint, the cob-web in the corner, the dusty old fan hanging down right above her. All of it was trivial, for what mattered most was what was holding her back. The more she thought, the more tired she grew. Still staring at the ceiling above her, she eventually fell into a deep sleep.
~
A loud banging sound woke me up. “Jill! Get up! It’s time to get ready for school!”
“Yeah, yeah! Just gimmie a sec!”
Throwing the covers off myself, I stood up and suddenly noticed the chill the night brought into my room. I quickly jumped back into bed promising myself I’d still have enough time to take a shower and not make dad frustrated by leaving to late, causing us to have to wait in the morning traffic.
“Jillian! What are you doing! You’re going to be late.”
I scrambled out of bed and grabbed my phone to check the time. “Oh my God! How’d the time go so fast!”
I sped through the process of getting ready, stopping only for a second to adjust my dirty blonde hair and to check if what little makeup I wore was all in place. Then, stepping out of my room, I called to my dad to tell him I was ready, and we promptly drove off to school.
Once I got to school, I texted my best friend Anna to tell her I arrived. Finally, sitting with our group of friends, I silently waited for the bell to ring so I could be on my way to class. I am not really a “people person”. I space out a lot and obsessively think about the smallest things like if my breath smells bad after eating a burger with onions on it. I am super awkward and the only thing I really succeed at is making conversations end. Anna is the opposite of me. She’s not a complete social idiot and she always has a caring face filled with compassion, whereas I always look like I’m about to punch someone. Anna and I always joke about how I’ll have a permanent frown line between my eyes by the time I am 20.
The bell signaling that it was time to head to our first class rung.
“Bye Anna!” I called. “Meet me at my locker during lunch?”
“Alright! Have fun in Science, we all know how much you love Mr. Signor”, she teased, walking away with a slight look of pity.
Mr. Signor is possibly the worst teacher at our entire school. He’s a slightly over middle aged man with greasy gray hair that he combs over.
The rest or my morning classes passed by in a daze until lunch came around. That’s how every day is, really. I go through the motions of everyday life waiting for change. A change that will make my life interesting and give me a purpose in this depressing world.
Anna came and nudged me with her elbow while I was taking my history book out.
I grin, looking sideways at her.
After lunch we head to our next class which we thankfully have together. When we get to the door, Mr. Land is holding open the door for us. “Ladies,” he says smiling. “Jillian, may I have a word?”
I stop awkwardly and look at Anna. She waves her hand and walks inside, leaving me.
I look expectantly at the teacher. He just started working at our High School this year so he’s relatively young and a tad good looking.
“Jillian, are you feeling ok lately?”
“Um, sure, not dying yet,” I huff.
He stares at me, expression unreadable. “Well, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to speak with me.”
I nod and head into class. Anna looks up at me and grins.
“What’d he want?” She points at the teacher who’s now walking to the center of the classroom.
“He was just telling me that if I have any questions that I could ask him, I guess,” I shrug not putting any thought into it as I go to my seat, wishing class would just end.
After school ended, I walked home. My dad refuses to buy me an I-pod or something so I can listen to music at the same time. We aren’t the most financially fit family. My parents Divorced when I was in middle school because of some issues she had. I also have an older brother named Erik. He moved out to live with our grandparents on my father’s side because he and our dad didin't get along to well after our mom and dad separated, My brother became very bitter towards the people around him. He blamed our mom about things he couldn’t understand; he blamed her for the downfall of our family. I sometimes did, too, it was natural that anyone would. She was crazy. She often talked about inconceivable apprehensions and delusions. She went on crazy rants, hitting walls, screaming at the top of her lungs, cursing things no one could see. “He’s there! He’s watching us! Get away!” she would cry, clinging to the sides of her arms. She died a year after my parents' Divorce.
As I neared my house, I hopped the brick wall between the railroad tracks and my backyard. The neighbor’s Doberman’s were barking loudly again.
“When will those stupid dogs be taught how to not be so obnoxious!” I murmur to myself.
Later in the afternoon when my dad got home and told me we were selling the house. He’s been going on and on about selling it for the last couple years, but always changed his mind, this time he was serious. After being swung around, back and forth for so long, now he decides to destroy my new found peace?
I’ve learned how to live my life. I’m content with living at the house I grew up in until graduation. At least to finish my junior year! He’s destroying everything I’ve worked hard to create for myself. He doesn't even have a reason to move away.All he ever tells me is that he wants "change", for himself and the world around him. It’s not that easy, in order to truly change, one must first change themself. If they believe they will change by the reliance of a literal change - one they can see with the eye - it will only be a short fantasy. That’s how I see it, anyway.
I went to my room and found comfort in smothering my face in a pillow.
I hate it when people tell me I’m a strong girl. My relatives tell me all the time that I’ve made it so far and have matured a lot from the things I’ve gone through. In truth, what they say makes me feel like I have to live up to what they believe I am. I’m not strong; I’m on the verge of my breaking point. I’m slowly trickling over my heart’s capacity, and each time I feel myself spilling, I set the bar higher. I make it so I can take another hit or even a couple small ones before I’m completely consumed by sadness, fear, anxiety, and all the emotions I’ve held back. The way I work is like the debt sealant. No madder how much I take. No madder how far I’m pushed, I can set my barriers higher and higher so that I don’t completely fall apart. It goes up and up and up to the point where my debt of permissiveness is almost back to give me a big knock in the chest. I don’t want that.
Then why don’t you do something about it? Huh, little girl?
Startled, I jump off my bed and look around. “Now I’mgoing crazy,” I mumble to myself, chuckling softly.
Silly girl. I’m right here. Do you not see me? The gravelly voice continues.
I laugh. “Of course I don’t see you.” Why am I talking to nothing?
Ooh Jillian, you will see, you will see.
Flopping down on my bed again, I doze off.
