Static

Static
By: Anonymous

The wheels start to turn, the engine starts to roar, and I’m on my way to school. The bus isn’t the best way to get to school. But I have no other way to get there. My house is too far away, my parents both work jobs, and I don’t have many friends to speak with. Very few people notice me. I’m just another face in a sea of High Schoolers, floating adrift until someone would stumble upon me. Even then, they don’t notice me.

As I walk off the bus, I see everyone else. They’re all so different yet so common nonetheless. They all have a style but that style’s shared between multiple people. No one’s ever really special. They’re all just trying to get on with their day. How they want and when they want. Everyone’s the same, everyone’s trying, everyone has their story. 

I’ve had panic attacks before, nothing like this. I sit in the bathroom stall, holding my hands against my head. My hair moves back and moves with my hands. In order to be quiet, I have to breathe less. That’s hard for me to do. I stop thinking about what happened before hand. The bus ride, the bully, first and second block. My memory is getting foggier and foggier every time I think back. Then, a realization. I look around, expecting something different. Nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s just me in this dirty, dingy bathroom stall. Curled up in a ball on the floor expecting something different. 

I start to cry, something I’m most familiar with.  I try to hold it in, but as I think of sadder thoughts, my glasses start to get cloudy. I violently take them off and set them down beside me, next to my phone. Notifications go off left and right. Those notifications want to be answered, but I’m a statue. Movement isn’t an option for me.

Then, I see a text from my boyfriend. He knows this is going on. He’s in Math, taking a test. He can’t skip this. I don’t want him to skip this. But I want him here with me, holding me, helping me, making me feel whole. Instead I’m left to pick up the pieces on my own.

I’m a broken shell of who I used to be.

I’m nothing without my boyfriend.

I’m a failure to all who knew me, past and present.

I’m silent. I’m still. I’m static.

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