I stirred my coffee over and over again, going at slow paces and working my way to rapid paces… only to end back at a faint pace; staring at the same black substance that hadn’t been mixed into anything out of the regular.

No milk. No sugar. No crème. Just black. I hated coffee.

I hated coffee almost as much as I hated the stupid polish of my shoes, the itch of this poorly knitted sweater, and the material of these tacky school pants.

Why I was even allowed back at school was completely beyond me, and I couldn’t even blame them. Who would want to deal with a teen that was clinically diagnosed with all sorts of ramblings that doctors presumed to call “illnesses.”

I had stood at the edge of the shabby, withered school roof; staring down at the ground, wondering how far down it would take me. As I let myself lean over the edge, bracing myself for the drop, my initial instinct hadn’t been, “YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!”

It was a genuine necessity of learning how to fly; because birds fly away when things get crazy.

I had heard that line from somewhere before, or maybe even read it in a novel or some lousy magazine article that no one had looked at for years. But for some reason, it stuck with me. I knew in that very moment, wherever my mind grasped that line, I wanted to be a bird.

I didn’t even want to be one of those beautiful birds, that was admired for its thick feathers or it’s perky song; I didn’t even want a dazzling colour.

I wanted to be a crow, or even perhaps, a pigeon. A bird people would shoe off… not necessarily different from the way my life was led now. A bird that would be able to indeed, fly away when things get crazy, and not have anyone question it.

What the motives were, where it was headed, where it had come from. Just a simple passing glance, if even, and off on the merry way it would go. A clean, fast break.

The less explaining and talking, the better. When things do go quite mad, sometimes, words can’t even explain it. Sometimes the emotions that reside within can’t even begin to describe it, so how do we call it “therapeutic” to make someone else listen to it.

It’s one thing I never understood and one thing I probably won’t ever understand.

My eyes had been puffy and baggy for whatever reason they had been, but I couldn't seem to re-call why so I just effortlessly blamed it on my lack of sleep. Which, irrevocably, ended up being a decent reason for me to stop staring at the never-changing coffee and get up off my ass to go change into my pyjamas.

School was just not in the cards for me today and things felt crazy, I wanted to be a bird.

I wanted so desperately to be a bird but I just didn't know how to, so I dragged myself up my stairs, giggling silently at myself for no apparent reason. Although, now that I come to think of it, it was probably the upped dosage the Doc had started prescribing.

Woo.

As I reached my room, I gripped hard to my bureau, my knuckles whitening my already pale skin. I changed into my pyjamas and plopped down back into my bed.

I sunk, and sunk even further into it, feeling like I was disappearing right before my own eyes; even though they were closed. Giggle.

The house was still black, due to the fact I was up and ready most days a good fifteen minutes before the sun would even peer its way through our outdated windows, creeping up on the rusted shudders as if it were a thief. What a thief would want here? You’re asking the wrong person.

Parents had already left for work, maybe hadn’t even come home. Nights at the office were rough, it was winter which meant, “you know what.” Wait, it meant, “I know what.” “They know what?”

Whoever knew whatever they wanted to know, that’s what it was.

I let myself drown further within the sheets, pretending it was the water whisking me away. Or maybe the wind in the sky blowing me away, the blanket of cloud cascading me in the hardly lit sky, just in the moment.

I felt like I was going to fall straight into my bed into a land of its own, that’s how deeply engulfed I’d been in it. Practically smothering myself, and not even able to give two shits because it was the only way up.

I saw the other ugly birds, some picking at worms, some wobbling along their way. Some even dancing along the boardwalk, wearing weird sombreros or coral-coloured dresses. I felt myself shake with laughter and I heard it, but I didn’t really feel it.

I felt myself flying away, because things were not only crazy, but just permanently fucked up.

And then I saw myself, just lying there, smiling.

Notes

Thanks for reading xo
-L