In This Town

4. Meetings

Monday morning, 5:47 am

I can't lie and say it's a preference of mine to be awake at almost six in the morning, and on Monday at that. That being said, this moment feels like the first one of true peace that I've had the pleasure of experiencing in over a week. I'm sitting on the bench next to my window now – something that I'll admit I love about this house, as I've always wanted a bench seat at my bedroom window – and I'm staring out at the blushing clouds, poking up shyly past the line of trees in my new backyard.

Sunsets and sunrises are one of the only things on this earth that have the power to rid my head of thoughts. When I look out at the pink and blue and purple streaks painted effortlessly in the sky, it's like I somehow cease to be myself... But in a good way. It's like, for a moment, I'm a part of something bigger. No longer a teenage girl, no longer a person at all.

Call me overdramatic, but there's just not many things anymore that have the power to so easily influence a person like that. I find comfort in knowing that even though I'm miles and miles away from the place I call home, I'm still living under the same sky. And maybe right now, that's how things are supposed to be.

I guess I feel like the sky is, ironically, the only thing grounding me right now. Everything in my life is changing, changing, changing, and I'm desperately trying to cling onto something that won't change on me, but I can't. Even my own personality has morphed into something I don't resonate so well with. I've become moody and shy, whereas I used to take so much pride in how secure I was in my feelings, and my confidence.

Anyway, it's coming to six on the dot and Mom is urging me to begin my day – something about wanting me to make a great impression on my first day at my new school. I can't say I blame her, I really want to start making good things out of this move!

See ya,
Im

Imogen sighed, turning back to some of her previous journal entries. The one she had just scribbled down was the first time she had found some time to write since she moved. She flipped the pages quickly, heart panging as she glimpsed past certain names or memories that she had written about.

In her head, Imogen made a mental note to go and buy a new journal sometime in the near future. It would hurt too much to continue reliving her past when she had no chance of going back to it, she figured.

Finally flipping shut the worn leather cover, Imogen stuffed her journal into the tight space between her mattress and her bed frame. She took one last glimpse out her window as she shuffled toward her bedroom door, breathing out a deep sigh at the serene view. And although she didn't show it (because perhaps she didn't really want to know), the sudden heavy beating of her heart became audible as she could have sworn she saw a wisp of dark hair at her window seat when she closed her bedroom door.

Imogen's fingers tapped mindlessly against her leg as she made her way up the steps of Lincoln high school. The building was large and intimidating, giving off something of a horror movie vibe with its old, dark stone walls. Fortunately, when she made her way through the heavy double doors of the building, Imogen was immediately able to spot the large sign only 20 feet away marked "OFFICE" in bold letters.

The office was bustling with different teachers running in and out, collecting any important things before their first class of the day. Imogen suddenly felt embarrassed in the presence of all of them, head hung low as she stepped up to the main desk and met the blue eyes of the middle-aged secretary sat at the desk. Her eyes caught Imogen's attention momentarily, distracting her. They seemed warm, and familiar in a way that she decided reminded her of her own mother.