The longer I feel alone, the closer I get with insanity.

 

Waking up early in the morning to get ready for school has always been something that annoyed me. With the pesky alarm at my side that goes off at exactly 05:55 everyday during the week, caused me to groan. Barely even functioning at this time, I tried to stuff my face with plain cereal that I don’t even like. With the occasional hot chocolate at my side for a morning beverage.

 

Smart enough, I take my showers the night before, so I never have to worry about taking one that early. Grabbing the clothes that I laid out, I slipped into the outfit I was going to wear at school for the day. Finishing up the normal routine for the mornings, I sat at the edge of my bed, listening to music that I have fallen deeply in love with.

 

Waiting endlessly for my ride to pull up next to my house, I patiently anticipated for the notifications to pop up on my phone. Signaling me to unlock it and reply to the friends that I miss so much. Not being able to see them in real life as much has been keeping me in the dumps for a while now. The virtual communication that we display with each other doesn’t seem enough. It lacks the physical feel of a person being around you. The comfort and warmth that their persona exerts is not there. It’s as if they were there, but then again weren’t.

 

The quick and short text message, ‘here,’ dropped down as a notification. Looking out my window, I saw a car and rose up from my bed. Gathering my bookbag and a water bottle, I exited my house.

Walking into my first period class always makes me think about the most random, but most wanted thoughts. Thoughts that questioned reality. The ‘what if’ questions. Asking things such as, ‘What if I never moved?’ or similar ones to that. Like I would have the answers to something that never even happened and couldn’t possibly ever happen. It made me look around. Seeing different people that I don’t even know. You’d expect a senior to know all of his or her classmates, correct? But with my situation, I don’t see the need to know any of them. Why should it be important to me to make friends all over again at a place that I despise?

 

The constant agony and sad feeling that surges through me throughout the day makes me go deeper into those thoughts. Beginning to talk to my conscious more than normal to keep myself entertained. Making up scenarios where life went the direction I wanted it to go. But those aren’t reality; those right there are dreams that could never become true.

 

Going from class to class, I noticed that the more I stay in those weird, but desirable thoughts, made my mind play tricks on me as I walked past people. People that would look almost identical or at least very similar to someone from my old school. At times, I would turn my head around a corner and be shocked to see someone that I know, but then be disappointed when my eyes made out the real person. After a journey from one side of the school to the other, I would plop myself into a chair and hear certain voices tell me, ‘It’s okay. We’ll always be there.’ As if they were right next to me.

 

Lunch period is the worst. That is when I notice that I am truly alone. No one to comfort me or to speak to me about things that lay on my conscious for a while. I sit alone in the lobby, eating a sandwich that would usually be half eaten already by friends, but finally getting the wish I’ve always asked for. To eat my own damn sandwich, alone. But thinking about it now, I would love to revoke that wish.

 

Out of place and not feeling comfortable, I sit and eat. Looking around occasionally to see if anyone was around. But to be disappointed at the sight of no one. That is when I start talking to myself the most. To try and keep myself from only thinking. Making it seem as if I were in dire need to hear my voice.

 

With every step I take in this school, I am met with loneliness. A sense that no one wants to even try and associate themselves with me. I don’t really blame them, they don’t need someone like me. I am irrelevant to their lives and they are equally or even more irrelevant to mine. But as I notice the more alone I am, the more I start missing everyone. Wondering how my life would be if they were here.

 

With the school day over, I step back into my room and lie on my bed; looking up at the ceiling and continuing the process of me thinking. It’s as if I can’t escape the thoughts. And the more I dwell in them, the more it makes me want to end it. I lie here, thinking about the many friendships I have. The connections I have with certain people. Bonds that I thought would never be strained. I lie here, wishing I could go back. Wishing all of this never happened.

Tears making my eyes go glassy and causing my vision to become blurry, I sit up and let the droplets stain my sheets. The simple thought of me going through this every day of my senior year until graduation, made me sick. I wasn’t going to have myself become dull and crazy over some bullshit that I never even wanted. Why should I be here, when I didn’t even want to be here? That question has been repeated over and over again, until I came to a conclusion. Life isn’t important. Life is useless. This many thoughts causing me to stress and cry shouldn’t be real.

 

Reaching down and opening my nightstand drawer, I pulled out a sharp object. An object that could slice and pierce skin easily. Looking at it, feeling it, and smiling. I was ready for renewal.

 

Bringing it up to my jugular and pressing against it hard, I felt the blood rush through me. With a simple smile, I sounded out my last words,

“The longer I feel alone, the closer I get with insanity.”

Published by Draven Krähe