secret soulmates // phan

four.

Dan
I look into the mirror.
Disgusting.
I try to fix my curls with some hair gel. They look bad, but less bad than normal.
I sigh.
She actually got me an iPhone. My mother, who can barely afford food, saved for years to get me an iPhone.
Tears well up in my eyes again, but I blink them away and take a deep breath.
I'm not going to take my iPhone to school. The bullies would break it.
I walk over to my room and plug my phone into the charger. I decide to put it in my bedside drawer, hoping no one will find it. When I get home, I'm going to set it up. Then I have something to look forward to, so I can survive this day of school.
I don't know how I keep managing to get through school. How can I still get grades which aren't that bad if I'm constantly drawing in my notebooks or daydreaming, not listening to the teacher? Or skipping class, because the bullies beat me up and I can barely stand on my feet? How do I barely have any detentions?
I don't know how.
The only thing I know is I'm still alive.
But what is the meaning of my life? I'm just another human being. My problems are so small in this universe. We're most likely to not be the only living creatures. There has to be more, there are so many undiscovered things. We can't be the only ones in this entire universe.
My life is pointless. Why am I even still trying?

I did not ask to have an existential crisis on my birthday.

I'm about to drop to the floor to lie there for about 3 hours, contemplating life, when I hear my mom's voice.
"Daniel? Are you going to school soon?"
"Yes! Almost ready."
I pull my hood up and throw on my coat. I walk downstairs.
"Have you had breakfast yet?" My mom asks.
"Yeah." I lie.

I'm not hungry. I'm fat.

"Good luck at school, honey!"
"Thank you mom. See you later."

The journey to school is the worst part of my day. If only I see the path I already get anxious. It's this dramatic buildup to hell. Every day I think about how bad the beatings are going to be. Same goes for now. How bad are they going to be this time? If they know it's my birthday, I'm fucked.
School is like a 15 minute walk from my house. I always walk, it clears my head. Breathing in the fresh air, I move my legs forward. They still hurt from yesterday.
"Come on Dan. It's your birthday. You're okay. Everything is going to be fine. I believe in you." I whisper under my breath. I like to say things out loud. My thoughts are always a mess. The ones I say out loud are the ones who are most important. Mostly negative. But I'm trying. I'm trying to say more positive things to myself. I'm tired of being sad.