Of the Deepest, Darkest Blues

Three: Stormy

\\ Not yet corpses, still we rot \\ 

- Anonymous 

I am exhausted.

Not was, but am. Pre-tense.

I had been for a while but today it seemed more prominent physically than it did mentally. I was often able to hide it, hide the bleak thoughts and heavyweights in my head but today, I couldn't hide the bags or the sag of my shoulders.

My day started at two in the morning and by 7, I was covered in midnight blues and sunset yellows. My hands and arms ached from the hours that I held them up, trying to recreate memories that should stay deep in my brain but won't.

I stared down at my paint-stained, trembling hands then to the canvas that had sat in front of me since 3 AM.

Streaks of soft paint, so innocent and powerless I used to think they were. But in the hands of me, they only brought grief and desolation.

Hundreds of eyes stared back at me, all the same color of forest green and all belonging to the same person. They were painted in different sizes with different colors around them almost making them invisible. But I could still see them.

The longer I stared, the more of them blinked back at me. They bled with sadness and horror. Blotches of my tears mixed with the paint, smearing it in some spots.

I frowned and reached for my face, touching my hot, wet cheeks. When did I start crying?

The alarm went off on my phone, making me jolt up from the spot on the floor. I grabbed the canvas and made my way over to my closet door, opening it quickly and placing the canvas alongside the multiple other colorful ones.

I had formed the habit to turn my grief into art. Sometimes, I think, I create my own heartbreak by painting the things that remind me so much of that night. It is my colorful diary that no one would ever see.

The alarm went off again and I rushed over to my phone, grabbing it and pressing the stop button. With a sigh and a look at the clock, I tossed the phone down and began getting dressed for my first day of senior year.

September was not the ideal month to start school but circumstances change when your family has died in the past 5 months. I think the school board will understand.

My grades from junior year were up to par and I was already ahead, so I wasn't worried about anything academically. I was simply worried about the attention I would receive being the new girl from a different town.

The inside of my cheek began to bleed and I cursed myself as I let the skin go with my teeth. Another unhealthy habit that needed to quit. I'm just full of unhealthy habits these days.

I grabbed the hoodie, that had come off during the night, and placed it on before slipping into a pair of baggy ripped jeans and my pair of trusted black dr. martins. I was careful enough to pull my arms through the large hoodie without stretching my injured side.

I pulled my hair back with a claw clip, ignoring the few pieces that were left hanging and left my face bare of any makeup products. I brushed my teeth and attempted to rid my hands of any pain but the splotches of dark blues wouldn't wash away.

A knock came at my door at exactly 7:30. "Mari? You ready, darling?" Eliza cracked my bedroom door open as I stuffed the last notebook in my small black bookbag. I quickly zipped it up and slung it over my shoulder and met her eyes at my door.

"Yep." She smiled widely and held the door open for me, letting us both out into the hall before closing it. I glanced at her outfit, pink scrubs, and white sneakers— Pink scrubs meant she was on OB-GYN rotation and that meant she wouldn't be home until after my supposed therapy session. I couldn't help but feel relieved that she wasn't there to take me.