9curtains. i could feel the cold without even having to push of my heavy covers.
What was the point in getting up?
All i wanted to do was roll over in my soft bed, and close my eyes, shut myself
out from the world. i just wanted to drift off into a peaceful dream.
No such luck.
"Claudi-a!" a sharp voice shattered all my thoughts. "Get up!"
"Um... yea," i lethargically faced the chilly air of my cold room, and pulled on
my clothes, as quickly as possible. Brushing my long chestnut hair, I glanced
into my mirror, though i didn't see the point of trying to make myself look
good. It wouldn't change anything.
Slowly, i advanced down the steep stairs, into the kitchen where my mother was
trying to make me breakfast. Shit. I was hoping she wouldn't. I didn't feel like
eating anything. I didn't feel like talking either. In fact didn't want to do
anything except be alone.
I wished she wouldn't sit with me while I ate. I wanted her to go away so I
could throw the toast out and pretend I'd eaten it. But she sat, and watched tv,
and ate her cereal until I'd finished.
As if in a trance, I shoved my school stuff together, brushed my teeth, and left
the house, feeling sick because of what I'd just had.
The icy wind bit into my skin, freezing me in an instant. My hands numbly tried
to wipe the snow from my eyelashes. Cloudy white skies were hidden above a
whirlwind spiral of huge snowfakes. But somehow, I enjoyed the torment that the
cold was giving to me. It was comforting, in a way, that I could punish
myself with so little effort. I trudged along, my eyes looking to the grey
roadside, when a voice called out to me.
It was a welcoming, understanding voice. The voice of a friend who knew me well.
I turned, and looked straight into his deep brown eyes.
I smiled slightly as i greeted him.
"Hi Joe." I noticed that he was wrapped up in a cosy coat, scarf and gloves. For
a moment I felt jealous that he was warm, while I was suffering. Then i
immediately felt guilty. I needed to suffer. He didn't. He'd done nothing wrong.
He was a good person.
He said nothing as we walked side by side, but after a few moments he wrapped
his scarf gently around me. I looked at him in gratitude. He smiled in return,
but still he didn't speak. I was so lucky to have him as a best friend.
We'd met a couple of years back, before I was like this. Was there a time before
i was like this? ... What was I like? ... I think i was happy... It was so long
ago... I couldn't even remember what happy felt like.
I think we knew everything about each other. I knew Joe was one of the only
people who could understand me, which is why, as we walked together, neither of
us spoke a word.
The school gates approached threateningly, reminding me that once i was inside
them, they would not let me go until the day was over. The thoughts in my head,
as always, were ones of misery.
I think i could get through the day if Tom just smiled at me. If i could just
look into his blue eyes. If he said hi to me. I was in despair at the thought
that i couldn't see him until break.
I struggled through the lessons, not talking to anyone, not making eye contact,
nothing. I didn't see any reason to work, but i did it, just for something to
take my mind of everything. Everything was nothing. Nothing was everything.
The bell rang. I made my way to where i knew he would be. There he was. Brown
hair ruffled, shirt hanging loose, eyes glowing with laughter. He was gorgeous.
But i hated him, hated him for doing this to me. For making himself my life. He
turned as a blonde haired, green eyed bitch put her arms around him. As he
hugged her back, i could tell he thought she was great. Something i could never
be. My eyes filled with unshed tears. I turned away. Suddenly Joe was there,
with me. I walked away, and he followed, his voice full of concern.
"Claud. You ok?" he asked me even though he knew i wasn't. I think he was trying
to get me to speak about it. He knew i didn't want to. he pulled me into his
arms. My tears fell from my clouded eyes. He hugged me close. I would tell him
later. I hugged him to say thankyou. For everything. Then, him being nice to me
was too much for me too bear. Why was he doing it?
"I have to go," i whispered, barely audibly. And he let me go.
I half walked, half ran to the girls bathroom, sheilding my face as i went, so
no-one would see my tears. I locked myself in a dreary grey cubicle, the walls
scribbled all over with graffiti. I sat alone, silently crying my eyes out. My
vision blurred with tears, i reached into my bag for the sharp blade.
I cut again and again, as i had done many times before, over and over in the
same place, until the slash ran so deep that the blood flowed freely, and my
tears dropped onto my arm, and mingled with the redness. It didn't hurt me,
because i hurt so much inside.
And as i bled, and as i cried, i just kept asking the same pointless question
over and over again:
why?