Winged Without A Choice

What is Life...

My life is amazing.

At least that's what I would tell myself every morning with a steaming mug of my everyday personal favourite flavoured tea; apple and cinnamon, and go through my events for the day.

Ride to school. (Great weather outside today)

Ignore the millions of eyes staring and giving me false pity. (Because I'm that shitty)

Go through all my classes without abruptly standing and leaving. (Which is sure to happen, again)

Leave school AFTER the last class of the day. 

Get home and do whatever normal school-going person would do. (Oh wait, I'm not normal)

Get into bed and dream about my nonexistent love life before I fall asleep.

Yep, that was my everyday routine. Inclusive of all holidays but without the school part. I basically spent my whole day leaving layers of invisible footprints all over the house because, why not. I mean, it's not like I spent my entire life walking around the house I've lived in my entire life like a complete stranger.

 I lived in Spring Valley. A bit of georaphy,  Spring Valley is someplace in Nairobi, Nairobi is, well, in Kenya. Here, Spring Valley is your typical Beverly hills. Everyone knows everyone, and by everyone I mean those really old couples that built retirement homes and almost always jog or walk their dog together. 

Finding kids my age is pretty easy, but I didn't have the time nor the energy to calculate where they were. They throw these really loud parties that are heard throughout the neighbourhood and because cops around here don't sleep on doughnut boxes, they were never really caught. 

How to find them? 

I used the thunderstorm logic, you know, the one where you calculate the distance of thunder from where you are by listening for the thunder after the lightning...that one. I'd sit by my bedroom window and watch, hours later, a pair or group of teens stumbling their way home, and the occasional puke which I happened to see the next morning when I was going to the store to get more flavoured tea, just outside my gate. It didn't bother me much, I'd seen worst just being alive.

I lived with my aunt Melanie, who has two kids, who seemed (then) to have taken permanent residence in my parent's house ever since she got divorced, and my parents died in a fatal car crash. I was the only kid, so I was left all alone in this wretch of a world, which isn't as bad as you would think, considering the hell I'd been through the few months after my parents' death:

Criticism

Judging

Fake pity

Losing my parents

More criticism

e.t.c...

Anyway, my cousins Josh and Elena are 21 and 16 respectively and can sure be as astonishing as the devil himself, but I loved them anyway. They moved in almost immediately after the funeral but the number of parties Josh has been to and the number of times he got laid, I could've thought he lived here longer than I did. I always tried my best to see what those girls see in him that I don't but honestly, all I saw was a handsome baboon.

Elena and I got really close after my parent's funeral, great advice that girl can give, almost made me feel like I still had something to live for:

My depression...

My dead soul...

Allan...(he might not even know I exist).

She tried to talk me into talking to him, but whenever that thought got into my continuously crumbling brain, I'd see someone's hand push it away. Literally