P r e s t o n / D i s t r i c t 4 / F I N

[flyss]

✥P r e s t o n✥
✥M a r c h✥
✥G a r r i t y✥

✥1 3✥M a l e✥

✥R u b y R o s e✥

✥T h e m e s o n g✥

In the crowd alone
every second passing reminds me I'm not whole
Bright lights and city sounds are ringing like a drone
Unknown, unknown

Sometimes you try to find purchase in the crevices of your sheets. Uneven shadows and crisp folds that have only seen virgin eyes give you time to relax and correct error, give you time to understand what your thoughts mean, give you time that you don't need. Your father always told you that you had too much of that; that you knew too much of what boredom was like and the suffering it brought. Didn't you, though? Didn't everybody? It wasn't you that had to provide for your family and it certainly wasn't you that had to do anything but swim and play ball, yet it was you that was reminded constantly of who did all this. Band-aids plastered to your nose and socks that suffocated your ankles gave no way to importance nor did it give way to the expanse of your mind. Physically, you were small but mentally you were larger than the heavens and more diverse than the world one hundred years ago. Your hair was on the verge of being long, but so short-cut that it couldn't possibly be on accident.

Nothing was on accident, you had heard when you were younger. Your childish ears had overheard talk about reincarnation and frankly, it fascinated you to think that you could have been somebody else. You let your mind soar and in turn, uncovered answers to questions you never asked. "Why do I call fingers 'thins'?" "What was my name?" "Why am I afraid of water when I am surrounded by it?" Questions, of course, came and went, but that last one- that very last thing you had asked yourself- stuck. Why did you hate water so much? Perhaps you lived by the sea then, too, or perhaps you drowned. Water engulfing you, the one thing you had learned to "love" in your time alive forcing it's way to where it didn't belong and to where it could have free realm. Wasn't this indecent? You hated the way it dampened your fingertips and your absolutely despised the way it was smooth but could move so roughly. It made you gag to think that you once were amazed by this substance and that it was ultimately your downfall. Pathetic. 

That wasn't even the thing you hated most about yourself. You hated how your eyebrows were so thick, you hated how your jaw was so firm, you hated how your shoulders were slim and your frame small. You hated a lot of things, actually, but what you hated most was how your body didn't correspond with your mind. You had fatty breast tissue, you had curves and the wrong genitalia, you had the female sex assigned to you when you honestly didn't know what you were. You were livid and confused because you are a girl but you are also not a girl. You hated how in your dreams, when you dreamt of your past lives, you saw yourself as a little boy and how happy you were. But of course, those were fiction, right? 

Could you even speak up to tell somebody? It was unheard of to be born in the wrong body and this was the sole thing keeping you from telling your mother, casually and calmly, because this was no big deal, right? Certainly it was phase, but even after it left the reasonable time era for being a phase, you continued to tell yourself this. Different was bad, different was scary, different was wrong. 

The thing was, is that you were already so very different. You kept to yourself, never speaking out against authority, or anyone for that natter. You would never sneak out at night to play with the other district kids and you told yourself that childish trouble like this was why you had no younger siblings. There was simply you and you were alone. The grey eyes that fastened themselves into your head were like steel and said plenty about who you were and what you stood for. There was no need to spread word that you could solve puzzles that the district geniuses could solve because truth be told, you couldn't. Surely you were smart, but to be compared to the likes of them was like a child being compared to a professional swimmer. It was another thing that was unheard of to you. 

A lot was unheard of to you, actually, considering you're partially deaf. Your hearing, ever since you turned 11, spontaneously cuts out. You never told anyone about it, and it certainly took a while to get used to. When you're required to ask someone to repeat something several times, it turns into quite the awkward ordeal. A false smile here, a small head nod there and you can almost fake it. Almost. Some people pick up on it easier than others which tends to cause a bit of conflict when it comes to what you can and cannot do. One person even recommended volunteering for the games and attempting to win simply to get it fixed. You nearly threw up at the thought.

What even were the games to you? Now that you were old enough to attend them, didn't that pose a problem considering you would rather drown again than suffer through that? Some days you actually think that in a past life you were a tribute and that's how you died such an inhumane death. Aesthetically satisfying, one would even dare to think. Your aesthetics obviously did not align with one of that mindset. You enjoyed the blending of colours on a pallet or the way the sunset melts into the pale blues of the sky. Your aesthetics are what keep you sane and sound and calm. What would you even be able to accomplish without that feeling?

Feelings about things was one of the ideals that you could proudly say that you had mastered. When you were three and your mother, in her age of youth, married your step-father, you had rejoiced in having a new face to stare at. When you were five and you started school, the dead of fall surrounding your every movement, you had gleefully accepted the sea of children who you were to grow up with. When you were eleven and you woke up to the news of your grandmother's death, your mind swimming with reasons why, you had sobbed until you could no more and even then you continued to grieve. Who were you to say you had known her well, though? You would like to think that you had spent every waking hour with her, but if you had, you would have been lying. One of the worst things to do is to pretend, after all.

But wasn't that what you were all about? Wasn't it you who pretends to be normal, who pretends to be who you are not, who fakes their way through the world? Wasn't it you who jumped out of your window not even five months ago because you couldn't admit that you were wrong and that you weren't sane? Wasn't it you that would carve your skin into "art" so you could fake being happy and fake being alive? Wasn't it you, that beautiful, handsome baby boy who made hundreds smile when you simply opened your mouth? Wasn't it you who wished that they had what was gone when they couldn't even bring themself to speak? Rest easy, child.

Glazed eyes, empty hearts
Buying happy from shopping carts
Nothing but time to kill
Sipping life from bottles

Odair


Fin

[flyss]

bumping into infinity

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