Unwritten

A Day in the Life Of Lily Odrey

At four in the morning the sun is just barely giving light to the day-enough only to brighten the dark navy sky. I have yet to go to sleep. Although already awake, procrastinating to get out of bed and get ready for school seems like a good idea.

Sitting up, I rest against the mahogany head-board and stare at the empty wall perpendicular to me. My paintings and art used to occupy that, now blank, wall space but have since been evicted from their home by the wicked mother dearest. I zone in and out, thinking of all the things I've done wrong or mistakes that I have made. Quite often, I do this. I wonder if I could have done anything different and soon enough, I'm panicking.

Remaining calm has always been an underlying issue in my life. Contentment is not a feeling that comes naturally to me. Much less, happiness. I've always had difficulty coming to terms with my life as it stands. I always feel trapped; as if I'm a captive animal in a zoo-just there for others' enjoyment-never able to live to its full potential.

Despite these thoughts, I know I have no reason to feel this way. Which makes me even more disgruntled; as ungratefulness is one of my mother's main reasons for hating me-her first child and only daughter. Sometimes, it often crosses my mind-wondering if she is right.

As it gets later into the morning, the sun rises and creates a canopy of reds, oranges and purples through the white blinds on my window. I look sluggishly at my phone to check the time. Realizing I'm only a few minutes early to getting prepared for another day in hell, I sulk off of my bed and into the bathroom down the hall. I stare at the wall where my hard earned sketches and paintings should be, as I walk out of my room. I begin to think about the day Mother had decided she didn't want them on the wall anymore.

It was mid March and the papers and canvases had already been on the wall for seven months or so. I had made my mother mad after refusing to eat dinner having been throwing up thirty minutes prior. She decided that the landlord-even though the landlord liked my drawings and complimented them-had told my mother very sternly that they were no longer allowed to be hung on the walls because of the holes it could cause. Thing is... I only ever used tape so there never were any real holes in the wall.

She forcefully came into my room and ripped the papers and canvases off the wall which in turn broke many of the canvases and ripped all of the drawings.

In hindsight, I knew something like that would happen. I should have never put them up on that wall. I just really liked walking past my art when I entered my bedroom. I gather my thoughts.

I wait until the last minute to start getting dressed. After I've dressed in my slightly large T-shirt and bleached skinny blue-jeans, I throw on my black combat boots, grab my pack, keys and cigarettes and head to the car.

While I wait for the winter frost to thaw, I apply concealer under my eyes to cover the circles. I've done this everyday like a sacred practice since I was twelve and realized you could use makeup to cover bruises and scars. When the windshield is defrosted, I back out of the driveway, to the stop sign at the end of my street and light a cigarette on the way to school.

Showing up at school, for me, is like walking into a library filled with your favorite books. You just want to get in there, find a book, and be left alone to read. I hate talking to people at school. Coincidentally, I also hate talking to people while I'm reading. I lose track of what I was reading if I take the time to strike up conversation.

As soon as I walk in, I run and get breakfast. I avoid everyone that I can and go to my class early. After finishing the bland school food, what is left, is deposited into the trash bin at the front of the classroom.

Too soon, students begin to pile in from the hall and class is in session. I zone out for most of the class because I know the curriculum being taught. When the class lets out, the history teacher pulls me aside before I can scramble out the door through the tsunami of people. "Look. I know you're above average in my class-all your classes-but I need you to at least pay attention." He takes a careful breath. "Some of the below average students need an example to follow and I'd hate to put it on your shoulders but..." He shrugs, not knowing what to say. "You are one of Jonsens' brightest." I nod understandingly and turn on my heel. "Have a good day Lily!" The teacher cheerfully says watching me walk out the door and into the crowd.