Unmistakable Reasons

Introduction.

“I got a heart full of pain, head full of stress.
Handful of anger, held in my chest.
Uphill struggle,
blood sweat and tears.
Nothing to gain
 everything to fear.”

–Linkin Park

“Nobody’s Listening.”

(Meteora)

You know that feeling when you’ve stared at the ceiling for so long you don’t just see textures anymore? You see words, pictures and feelings... That’s what I’ve been doing for the past half hour. I’m having one of those days when I just wake up feeling naturally alone. I get up, face the world and let it take a little piece of me each time. I feel like a shadow. I’m not significant to anyone or anything. Of course, I make a pretty good verbal punching bag to a few students. Is that my purpose, to make good material for a few stupid high school students? I want to be seen. I want to make a difference. Songs, books, and movies are made about important people, or even fictional characters. That’s what I want. I want to be more than just a footprint on a sidewalk in a small town.

 I guess I should stand up now...  I thought.

I walked to the mirror and looked at myself. Now, if I were most girls when I looked in the mirror I would see my messy blonde hair or the cellulite on my body. But for some reason all I can think about is the other side of the world. I wonder if there is anyone in India that feels the same way I do.  Actually, I wonder if they wonder if there is anyone in America that feels the same way I do. Oh, but there are bigger issues right now: I need to get ready.

That’s sarcasm by the way; I really don’t care about being at school today. But I guess it should be important in my tiny little bubble of life; life that doesn’t affect anyone anywhere out of this aimless town. It certainly doesn’t affect anyone in India.

So now I brush my hair, it’s long and blonde with a bright red color underneath. I have blue eyes. Sometimes I wear glasses, sometimes I don’t, it just depends on my mood.

Maybe I should have them on now… I think as a fall to the ground over a box.

Boxes have been everywhere in my room for the past month and a half. Have you ever thought about how boxes are made? I hadn’t either until I began going to stores asking them for their leftover boxes. Why don’t stores sell boxes? That way you can pick what size you want. Maybe they do that somewhere else. Maybe they do it at box factories. Are their box factories? I’m glad my family is moving cross country so I have new things to wonder about. Like boxes. Sometimes I wonder if I wonder too much, but I don’t think that’s possible. I’m not a cat so curiosity won’t kill me.

To be honest I have nothing to miss here. Names and faces. That’s all these people have ever been to me. Sometimes I just want to please people. To make my family, my teachers and my peers happy. And other times, at 2 a.m., I want to go out my back door and just walk. I wonder how far I could get before someone noticed. I wonder why people would care. I mean, I know people that know me would care for a while but honestly… Do you think a 17 year old girl running away in the middle of the night is going to effect a silver-polishing housewife in her mid-30s? Of course not. She would hear it on the news and shake her head and maybe spew a few theories to her sister on the phone that day, but then she would go pick up her son from soccer practice and that would be that.

When I think about how insignificant I am that’s when I wonder when I will find my purpose.

Little did I know that I was about to get set on fire with a great big mammoth sized reason to crawl out of bed in the morning.

Delicate word picture, I know.