The Narrator

3 - I Cried. But It Was Super Manly

Journal Entry

December 4th, 12:01 PM

I'm beginning to see what a pleasure it would be to drown myself in the toilet bowl.

I can't stand it anymore! I can't think right! I can't see straight! I'm tired, miserable and if I'm not crazy yet, I sure will be soon.

I want to call Mom so badly but I can't. Not only will she think I'm trying to get out of a test, but she isn't even home. Speaking of tests, I forgot I have one next period! That's sure to push me past the breaking point.

My heart is honest to God beating so fast I think I might have a heart attack right here in the bathroom stall. Never have I been so afraid to go to history class.

Maybe I could skip school. You know, just walk out the front doors.

No, they'll call Mom after school; then, if I'm not dead yet, she'll make sure I come pretty close.

I don't hear anything now... Maybe I'll be okay after all.

Suck it up, Travis. You can do this.

Apparently, I couldn't.

I hid in the bathroom until the bell rang, assuring I wouldn't have to battle the voices in public for more than an hour.

I stuck my fingers in my ears and hummed a little tune as I headed for history class, ignoring the tiny people in my head.

Where is it? Faster. You're kidding.

I made it to class and plonked myself in my desk. For a few moments, while everyone else talked amongst themselves, I wasn't doing too badly. I only heard a couple voices.

I'm going to die. You worked too hard.

Then the test began.

My heart was beating out of my chest. I pressed my fist to my forehead, trying to pretend to have a headache.

Give up. Nineteen...

It wasn't long before I had to bury my head in my arms, pressing my nose against the desk, reminding myself to breathe.

Quit! First? I don't know.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus on music in my head.

You're a failure! What's going on? When was it?

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up, taking quick breaths. It was my teacher, Mrs. Grieko.

"Travis, is something wrong?" She whispered.

I swallowed hard and swiped at my eyes. I hadn't even noticed I'd been crying. "I... have a headache." I managed to get out.

"Go get a drink of water." She said softly; I could barely hear her over the voices. "And go to the nurse's office if you still feel sick."

I nodded quickly and grabbed my backpack, practically sprinting from the room. People watched me as I walked out and I knew they would talk.

But I was too messed up to care.

I went to take a drink and, being completely mentally exhausted, I face-planted the sink.

How strange. Unfair. Not sure. The voices said.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I hissed back, not realizing I'd said it out loud.

I started down the hall toward the bathroom. I ended up tripping over absolutely nothing and landing hard on the floor. Normally I'd stand quickly and pretend nothing had happened.

But I didn't. I just stayed there, on the floor, unable to do anything but listen.

How? What the... Can you explain? Travis Bailiff?

The voices know my name. I couldn't help thinking.

Travis Bailiff?!

Wait. That's not in my head.

"Travis Bailiff!" I turned my head to the right and glanced upwards. Mrs. Dupont.

"Hi," I muttered.

"What on Earth are you doing?" She exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Oh... I was examining the mingling of floor cracks when exposed to students' feet for many years in a row." I might've actually said this in my head. At this point, I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. Mrs. Dupont's response wasn't any indicator.

"Do you need the nurse?" She exclaimed, kneeling down and feeling my forehead. Why do adults do that? You could say you have a bullet lodged in your leg and they'd check your forehead. I don't get it. I quickly stood and my head swam.

"Could I just get some air?" I asked. Okay, it was more like begging.

"Well... Alright. Go ahead." She watched me go down the hall toward the exit and I deliberately stood tall and tried to make myself appear fine.

I'm fine. I told myself. I'm fine.

I'm dying inside.