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| Estoy Aqu
Of all the things that have happened to me, very little of it I find meaningful. I go day in and day out trying to search for purpose. Yet at the end of the day when I stand-alone on the cold floor, I find none at all. Every single effort has been in vain. I have not found purpose. I have not found a reason to live. Yet there still may be thoughts left in the wake. I spend my days only seeking small victories, the little things that are supposed to make life worthwhile. In all my life, I recall just one day. Or it may seem that I literally only recall one day. There is no differentiation between the events, only what is left of that one single day. This day is the monotony that I follow each and every It is the sameness that has begun to destroy me. This day begins in a cold hard room. This day begins as I awake to a nightmare.
Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep- Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep.
SMACK!!!!
My hand fell to the annoyance that echoed through me. It was the thing that awoke me to the world. It was the thing that brings me from my sweet serenity. Of course again I fell back to sleep. I hadnt even been aware that I had turned the alarm off. I had bought myself a few more moments of freedom. The somniferous marine blue blanket didnt keep me warm through the night. The glass of water on my windowsill, full of cracks; it had been another frigid night.
Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep- Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep.
SMACK!!!!
I seemed finally have awoken. The white ceiling always stared back at me with no sense of purity. It always laughed at me when I got up in the morning. So I finally crawled out of bed. It would be just another day. No more different than the last. I never expected there could be more. I never really imagined I could get over the things that go wrong again and again. But that wasnt really what I was thinking. I had not really begun to live that day yet. I did not yet have the awareness of the truth that I had re-learned every day. I stepped through broken images of drawings I had written, poems that I had drawn; shredded into each other from some previous day when I had believed that they werent worth the cellular fiber they were printed on. America the beautiful, America the land that I am reminded of whenever I had attempted to stand from my bed. I get up and see this huge American flag staring me right in the face. It was a reminder that I have no patriotism. I didnt care for the soil I stand upon; of course at that point I didnt even care for the souls that stood before me. Those red, white, and blue just hid behind more torn images of my past. The life I no longer wanted to accept. The person I no longer wanted to be.
But still I pushed forward, not knowing why, not worrying if it mattered. The next room was the midpoint of my realm. In that place, I was the only one to rule. I lived in the depths of my house. The basement was the place that I belonged. Cold, dark, and full of bugs; this was where I had my place. This room had my pool table. Of course it was really my entire familys pool table. But I was the only one who had ever used it. And it was within my realm. Yet this piece of mass only made me no longer require it. Having what I wanted only made me lose my desire for it. All the things that I had ever had lost its significance once it was mine. This room also held a few things that didnt really belong. A stack of cds, a print of some mountains by Jerry Schurr, and a big dead fish; not really things I would have placed in my home. Yet it wasnt my home, only my realm.
The next room really didnt belong to me. It was on the edge of my realm, but outside life could reach me there. A television was behind me, laundry room to the left, freezer ahead, and to my right were the twelve steps. This is where I left behind all the things that were really mine. I no longer held any power after these 12 steps. Twelve steps to success, or was it twelve steps to total lack of control. The first step was always the most trivial; it was so easy to go back. But each step takes away the power that I held had back in my realm. The second step, no longer could I see. The third step, no longer could I hear. The fourth step, my sense of smell had left me. The fifth, I no longer had any sensation in my toes. The sixth step, I had made it halfway. But was I halfway up or down? The seventh, I could taste only the memory of my cold room. Eighth, Ninth, tenth, eleventh; each one taking me to a strangers land. The twelfth, all that was left was the memory of what once existed. I was in their world then. I no longer had any power. Only the possibility I might find a piece of my own within what was theirs.
The kitchen was where I found myself. But food could not give me what I needed. I would have to wait for it. I pulled open the white cupboard, took a glass and filled it with water. It was the only thing I would need throughout that day. It always was seemingly empty, yet full of so much. I drank it slowly; let it become part of who I was. But through the scattered light I saw the red glow of the digital oven clock; it was 8:19. Most people would have been incredibly worried at that point. But I knew that I had until 8:21 to get into my car so I would have enough time to get to class. I set the glass down and go to put my shoes on. I didnt have time to put them on so I just stepped into them halfway and walked out the door. I didnt have a coat, I didnt have my bag, and I didnt care. Of course my bag was still in my car, like it always had been. I walked into the garage and pushed the red button that opens the garage door.
The buzz of the gears pulled the barrier out of the way so I might be able to back out. I opened the door; of course it was stuck and took me a couple seconds to pull it open. I stepped inside and slammed the door shut. I had left the keys in the ignition so I am ready to go. Half a turn clockwise and a roar of the engine told me it had survived the cold night again. I looked at the clock; 8:21, just on time. I pulled the shift into reverse and turned to back it out. Back all the way to the sidewalk, I glanced left and right for traffic and then punched the accelerator. A sharp turn of the steering wheel to the left lead me on my way to the thing that I am supposed to be. Roland-Story High School, where dreams become reality. Only four blocks away so I didnt have to speed very far. Oh the stop sign on broad, lucky for me, there was no traffic that day. I drove across the street and into the swimming pool parking lot. I drove three blocks and then I still had to walk another.
I pulled the shift back into park and turned the ignition off. I was still on schedule to walk into Spanish right before the bell rings, or right after. I opened the door and slammed shut after getting out. My bag was in the back seat so I pulled open the back door, grabbed my body bag, slammed the door and started for the school. The fresh air was my ally. It always seemed to let me know I am still alive in the winter. The ice on the ground would have only slowed me down if I had walked on the sidewalks. I chose to walk in the snow to save myself the trouble of falling on my face. A short stroll and sprint through the hall was all that was really left in my way. I got inside the inner doors and the clocks second hand was racing me to the top. Whoever thinks that a clock moves slower when watched is an idiot. I walked into the classroom just as the bell began to ring. Just as usual, my friends were sitting in their normal seats. I walked to the fourth row in, and into the second to last desk from the back. Of course I had been knocking everyone in the head with my bag.
Cuttin it a little close again, arent ya John, said Lounseberry with a not so bright look on his face.
Yah, well I gotta get my extra 20 minutes of sleep everyday. I just had realized that I still had on the same clothes I had worn the day before. It was my plain orange shirt and my Levi cargo jeans. My hair was a mess because I slept on it after taking a shower, not that I really cared.
Of course then I realized that I hadnt even started on my Spanish homework yet. So while Ms. Reysack read the announcements, I opened my green folder to the worksheet that was due. It was simple conjugation, something I could do in about 20 seconds. Spanish hadnt always been one of my favorite classes. I had always understood math and science better than anything else. Of course I no longer felt that learning more and more about numbers and nucleotides was very exciting. So I found myself looking forward to my language classes. I still wasnt trying as hard as I could, but I did care about what I did do.
Ms. Reysack walked between the rows making sure everyone had their homework done. I was pretty sure she knew that I did mine most everyday before class. I dont think she really cared. Although she might have been a little annoyed with the fact that half the class just scribbled something into the blanks to get credit.
You will only hurt yourself on the tests by not doing the homework. I knew that it was true, but I usually got the trivial vocabulary or grammar exercises completely finished in the few minutes before class anyway. Sacan los libros, por favor. It was the usual review of the stuff we had been doing for three weeks, but not everyone gets it so we have to hold back.
After what seemed like about two minutes, we got in groups to work the last fifteen minutes on problems out of the book. But of course instead of doing that we just talked about our social lives or the lack of one.
So Dave how was your date with Megan, I asked figuring he wouldnt want to talk about it either way.
Oh she just wouldnt shut-up. She started off kinda quiet, but that wore off before long. Our personalities didnt exactly mesh well. Oh and Nick, I hate you.
What? I thought you would like her, said Nick with a look of utter flummox on his face.
Yeah, just never try to set me up with one of your girlfriends friends again, objects David. He seemed to be pretty perturbed about the whole situation.
This conversation went on for the rest of the period. Not that I really cared. I just spaced out again. I kept hearing this voice that spoke to me. It told me all I know was not all the truth.
It seemed to say to me, Do you wonder why I do this, I wonder why you don't
Do you wonder why I see through the walls, I wonder why you cant? Dont you think there is more to life than just these pointless games? Dont you believe that we can be anything that is there? There is no originality. It all stems from the known. Yet is this true. Can there be originality. Is creativity a true thing? I only want to know. I only want to believe, can you allow yourself to believe? That was the voice I heard. It was not a singular voice although. It was my own thoughts catching up with what I ought to really know. But the voice was gone. And in its place
Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring- Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring- Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring- Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring
Man, I really wished I could have smashed that bell. But up I went. I would be going upstairs to Written Communications class. That was the destination, getting there was much more complicated than just walking up the stairs. I still had to pick up my bag, possibly a challenge in itself, and get up there. I stood up, stuffed all my bag and booked it out of there before there was a chance that I might be stampeded by the rest of my classmates heading for their next class. Outside the Spanish room I passed many people on my way to class. I would name them, if I knew their names. Anyway I walk by the commons surrounded mostly by people I hardly know. Even though a lot of these people I have spent ten full years of school with, I still struggled to give any thought to who they really are. Sure there was Caryn, Ashley, and Lounseberry; all headed the same way as me. But other than them, I really dont know the people in my communications class. So thats what I was thinking while I headed up to Batistas class. I was a total stranger to the identity of my class. I really didnt care though. Except for those stairs, I hated those stairs. For some reason they just bothered me, I glanced by Nathan as I began to vault up the unfathomably un-proportional stairs. I got to the top of the stairs and enter the room that is right ahead of me. It was the most cluttered room in the entire school. It was full of posters and art prints and big stacks of books. And, of course, it had a nice fake brick wall accenting the beautiful tan brick wall.
Batista began to hand out her daily work of literature. It was usually some poetry or something that she just wanted to share with us. Todays poem is by a brilliant American author. His use of simple language makes the reader really think about what life really is about. Anyway here this poem reads
Lemons are Yellow
green is for Lime
Poems are sentences
that sound Alike
Doesnt that just touch yall?
It was definitely an interesting way to start class everyday. And now we are going to be doing our practice ACT reading tests. So everyone take out your test books and open to a story you have not done yet. Everybody scurries for their little books. I pulled out mine and got a nice green pen that had been in my back pocket. It always goes like this. We practice these tests so we might have a chance of improving our scores. With those improved scores we get accepted into better colleges. By getting accepted into a better college, we get a better education. By getting a better education, we get more money. By getting more money, we get greedier. By becoming greedier, we lose sight of humanity. By losing sight of humanity, we lose our own immortal souls. So by pulling out these books we would be selling our own immortal souls. Oh well, at least I would get more money.
I will be calling off ever 30 seconds. Please begin. So I skim through the questions. 30 seconds. So I began to skim the reading. It was the normal material. It was a piece about some girl going to India after high school. I was thinking that this was the worst part about the class. It was not exactly very stimulating. I knew that it might help me in the future, but I didnt really care. I was pretty conceited about how I felt I would do. I figured I didnt need any practice. I thought that I could do whatever I want with as little effort as would be needed. I was trying to concentrate on my paper, but that just wouldnt have been me. My eyes wandered to the different paraphernalia around the room. There was the countless quotation, to inspire thought. The board was covered with writing for other class. Debate, poetry book, William Shakespeare, it was all there. Everybody else was scurrying away at their little tests. It almost seemed that they all believed this was the real thing. It was so quiet. There were no whispers. There was no rattling of papers. There was only the scribbling of twenty #2 pencils. I finished the test with three minutes to spare. I might have checked my answers, if had I cared about them that much. Time, please check your answers in the back, shouted Ms. Simpson. You will now be writing for the remainder of class. There was only fifteen minutes left, I hadnt realized time had moved. You should be working on your poems, or your narrative that is due on Monday. So I pulled a piece of paper out of my bag. It hadnt been in any folder, it was just crumpled between my books. It had some scribbles on it for math analysis. That didnt matter, so I just started to write. I write of the things I had written before. I remember back when I had first written those simple words on he page. I decided to write a poem. It would be just a simple poem. It would have no significance, or at least I didnt mean to give it any.
I do something unexpected, change is constant
As random as a doorway, not knowing what will come out
I scream and whisper, " I can show emotion."
As blue as the sky, not knowing where it ends
I am a spaceship, how far will I go?
That was what I had written. What did it mean? What made me choose those specific words? Why did this poem that intentionally had no purpose, touch me so. It was a my consciousness losing my ignorance. It was
Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring- Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring- Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring- Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring
The bell rang and then had to scramble off to my next class. It was good old Chemistry. Where I would spend more time thinking about my next move then whether K2(Cr2O7) + KOH 2 K2(CrO4) + H2O was a redox equation or not. I got across the school and went into the chemistry room with little know occurrence to me. There was the sudden rush of cold air that pulled around me. Not that it bothered me; it was always colder in my room. This made me feel comfortable, but everyone else seemed just plain cold.
Queens Rook- Rank 4, said Paul as if he knew something I didnt. We had been playing this 24 hour chess game. I never had set up my board at home, so each day I really cared less and less. Paul was wearing a gray shirt, jeans, and of course- his Buttercup necklace. Most guys might have thought that wearing a Powerpuff Girls necklace might be a little flitty. But of course I couldnt criticize, I had worn a Blossom key chain on my belt loop till I had lost it.
Thats your move, I said to him acting like I really have a plan to this entire chess game. If you really want to move there, I guess thats your decision.
So he wrote the notation down in his folder, he knew I was bluffing. I only ever tried when the board was actually physically in front of me. Youre in for it John, he seemed pretty confident.
Mr. Helgeson was standing in front of the class by then. It was his first year. We were his first chemistry class. He wasnt so bad. Well class, Good morning. It is a good morning. I have a joke of the day today. He had this random ritual of giving a joke of the day. Most of the time they were pretty lame, but they werent all bad. Todays is called HOW TO KEEP A HEALTHY LEVEL OF INSANITY.
It goes like this: Number three- at lunchtime, sit in your parked car w/sunglasses on and point a hair dryer at passing cars. See if they slow down. Number one- page yourself over the intercom. Dont Disguise your voice. The class seemed to be enjoying the list. Small chuckles had erupted through some of the other students. Number four- put your garbage can on your desk and label it IN. Number one- Develop an unnatural fear of staplers. Even I started to enjoy this little list at that point. Number five- put decaf in the coffee maker for 3 weeks. Once everyone has gotten over their caffeine addictions, switch to espresso. Number nine- finish all your sentences with In accordance with the prophecy. Number two dont use any punctuation. That was one that obviously had to be written to understand. Nobody laughed at it. Number six- number all your lists using the digits of pi. I chuckled at that thought. It was more of a kind of dry humor.
The whole class had enjoyed his joke-of-the-day. Now the class seemed more ready to do some actual work. Today you will be re-doing your procedure for making magnesium oxide. You will attempt to obtain as little percent of error as possible. He told us we would be doing the same lab we did the day before. By then we knew almost exactly what to do and would really be spending half the time just waiting for the crucible to heat up.
You grab the goggles and Ill get the magnesium and a clean crucible, I said to Paul, as we got ready to repeat the things we already knew. I didnt really see much point to re-doing the lab. To decrease our percentage of error, we would have had to change our procedure. Werent aware of anything that could make our procedure more accurate, so we would do the exact same thing. We would be doing the exact same thing, and thus get the exact same results. But it was another day were little would be done, so I didnt complain.
We arranged our materials in the lab station in the corner nearest to the chemical storage room. Paul basically set up everything; I just sat there waiting to light the gas. Click, Click- Whoosh. The flames rise up just a couple inches high. I always found the blue flame soothing. It reminded me of my room. It made me feel like I had some power. I could see this flame. It helped show me purpose. It lit up the room like the sun lights up the sky. Yet I would have been happy had the sun not rise. I was content with this solemn candle showing me there might be some other path that I hadnt yet seen. I stared at it most of the entire period. Wondering why n it glows, who does it glow for? It began to consume me. I was ready to see the truth. The truth was
Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring- Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring- Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring- Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring.
I had to set off again for my next class. There would have been time to let the secret out. I was only going across the hall. But I had lost my thought. I grabbed my stuff and headed over to the health room. This was Mrs. Sampsons room. It was full of pictures of HOSA conferences, posters about non-communicable diseases, and it had a stereo in the corner. Hello class, today I am going to give you a work day to work on your worksheets and vocabulary, Mrs. Sampson said in a stressed but kind tone. It was just as well for me. I could work on some homework or something. I always sat in the second desk from the left in the middle. There was enough space for each student to have their own desk that usually held two. So I could set down my mammoth bag without having to worry about it getting in anyones way. Iit would be
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