It started last Friday. I spent the day out on a holiday trip with my family instead of going to school. I spent most of the day miserable and bored. Little did I know that the weekend to come would be even more miserable, and even more boring. On Saturday, I cried. I sat at my kitchen table, listened to "Away From The Sun" by 3 Doors Down on repeat, copied my sister’s Geometry homework, and cried like the world was ending.
But it wasn’t.
I started crying for some stupid reason. But, have you ever started crying because of something stupid…and just couldn’t stop? It’s like every single horrible part of your life comes to mind right at that moment, and it’s like the tears never stop coming. My mom saw me crying and gave me a hug, telling me not to be mad at her for what she had done to upset me earlier. I told her that I wasn’t mad at her. I told her that I just wanted to be happy. And this made me cry more.
The next day, I cried again. My dad and I got in an argument and he said "You are only depressed all of the time because you want a boyfriend. No, actually, I think you just want to get laid." The second the words came out of his mouth, I was appalled. Why was he such as asshole?
He is so simple-minded, my father. Thinking that I’d cry my eyes out over something so stupid.
I do want a boyfriend, though. But, that’s beside the point.
I was crying because I am simply at the bottom. I am so far down, away from the sun. I am sad. I’ve run out of blue paint for a while.
Maybe I have seasonal depression, that kind of thing when you’re only sad in the winter. But, I don’t want reasons to be sad. I just want to be happy, like I said to my mom on Saturday. Is that too much to ask?
My sadness followed me into the weekdays, where it hung over my head like a gray cloud, mocking my empty can of blue paint. I closed myself off from people, I listened to sad music, and every little thing made me upset. On Tuesday, I recall thinking about how much I wished I wasn’t a human, so I could move to another planet and live with all of the other aliens of my kind, called nice, non-judgmental people. They almost are like aliens, if you think about it. They’re so unknown anymore.
And then there is Ginny. Ginny is being a friend, and Jordan must be taking the wrong hint. He treats her so differently than he treats me. On Thursday, I looked out of my bus window, through the large front window of the high school, only to see them enveloped in a hug. I still have never hugged him. Maybe I should just face the fact that no guy will ever want to be with me, because I live in a shallow, superficial world where the ugly, nerdy girl doesn’t end up with the guy in the end. This is not a movie. Why can’t I just realize that I must’ve been put on this planet by mistake? No one understands me. People ask what is wrong, and reluctantly, I tell them. They don’t comfort me. They don’t see anything wrong. They just don’t get it.
They tell me I’m overreacting about the whole Ginny thing, that I’m not dating Jordan, so I shouldn’t get so worked up about it. But, just take a second and pretend that your life is the unlucky, predictable mess that mine is. Picture that the person you love doesn’t love you back, and seems to love someone else instead.
Wouldn’t you be upset, too?
Last period on Tuesday, during my English class, I went to the bathroom as soon as I got there, just to get away for a few minutes. I stood in front of the mirror, fixing myself up, frowning at my reflection. Above the mirror I noticed something. On the pale pink tiles, it said, "Smile." It was written spaced out, one letter per tile. I glanced into the mirror and smiled a little, a smile that was obviously not sincere. That writing above the mirror looked awfully familar.
I had written it there only a week earlier.
I can't even take my own advice.
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