My Story to Tell

*****
Darkness. Wherever I was, the entire place was dark. I tried to resort to my other senses, to feel around like you do when waking up in a dark room. However, I felt nothing of the outside world. Nothing. It was as if I didn’t exist. I felt like I was covered in a veil, something restricting me, wrapping around my every limb. At the same time, it felt familiar, like a protective wrap protecting me from the dangers of the reality, and of freedom. I was alone for what felt like an eternity, but suddenly, as if someone had finally opened the door to the interrogation room, I heard a soft rumble. It grew louder, and I felt a gallop closing in. A tsunami of force smashed into my back; a dazed sensation fell over me. My final realization was that I had been trampled into the ground. The worst part was, I couldn’t even feel it.
*****

I awoke from my nightmare in a cold sweat, as if I was under the spotlight of my grandest performance. I felt no excitement for the new day, no joy in going to class. I wasn’t depressed, I was just another one of those young people who had to wake up too early. I rode the morning bus to school, feeling tired, but I was determined to stay awake. I refused to fall asleep, partially because someone would make fun of me. Mid-thought, the two boys next to me began telling humorous stories about yesterday afternoon. They broke the silence, sharing several accounts that they felt were amusing. They began laughing manically, excited to add their own original insights to their stories. And here we find the more important reason for my sleep deprivation: I wanted to stay in the loop. I always chuckled along in conversations when someone told a joke, more often than not a mediocre one, and listened to things that would never impact my life. My reason? Nothing particularly special, I just felt inclined to remember my own presence. I didn’t want to be forgotten – another one of those aging items in life that sat there silent, collecting dust. But slowly I was still fading away, I could never bring myself to mention something pertinent to myself. The two students beside me kept cracking up, and someone’s irritating whispering reminded me what today was: it was the club fair.

We had time in our day normally for classes freed up for the event. It effectively replaced the orderly progression of classes with a massive gathering meant to promote student club activities. The entire hallway was littered with club advertising, hollering upperclassmen, and worst of all, lost wanderers staring in wonderment at the fascinating clubs they could enter to chase their wonderful dreams. I felt none of the same elation flowing out from the majority of the students surrounding me. Most of the people who actually desired to exert themselves in clubs already had their minds made up, and most of the people still looking feverishly weren’t inclined to bring anything to the table. Of course, some of the undecided were new, searching to find that special place in their high-school life. They wanted to find a place where they fit in. However, I belonged to none of these groups. I entertained the possibility of finding somewhere related to my interests, as I strolled down the hallway. I stopped abruptly; of course I wouldn’t, the significance of my own desires had long been scattered away.
High-school life’s usual rose-colored tint had been dampened so much for me that now it was gray. Now, I simply followed the flow around me. I was among the people who rarely joined clubs, someone who went “hanging out” with the others or straight home. The result couldn’t be much different than those of the more adventurous types. Around me the world continued to play on, and I just stood there and watched, neither part of the crowd nor of those seeking to exploit it. I watched as people yelled out why their clubs mattered, their achievements, how their club would be like family for anyone who joined. The undecided students still navigating around the hall seemed to be intrigued by each and every club. I still wonder what each of them were hoping to find. My life had its direction set, early on by my parents, later on by expectations, so much so that eventually the wishes and whims of the adults in my life had become my own. I didn’t need to carve myself a new path. The commotion seemed like a play, one side playing the charismatic mentor, the other the naive discoverers of a new world. I noted a critical disparity in my comparison however, none of the supposed actors had planned scripts - they were improvising forward.
The club fair washed by in front of my eyes, in fact the entire school day did as well. It went by just like that, taken by the rapids. It instantly became a hazy, distant memory in my mind. School was just that, the same boring grind every day. We learned facts that had no impact on my future, at least my future as people imagined. I was just the short, decently smart, but secretive child who had a bright future. I was walking home, alone, and even the people walking near me seemed distant. People didn’t go out of their way to banter or hold conversations with me. I listened to the soft drum of the fall creatures, but I never added my own noise to the bustle of life. Someone was talking about an amazing new restaurant they discovered at lunch, another about getting a driver’s permit. The voices of others walking their own paths were intertwined into a raspy buzz. While trying to understand other people, I realized nobody really comprehended who I was, or what path I was walking.
Just a few years ago, back in the distant memories of middle school, I had been a different person. I had close friends, and we would always play the game of imagination. We ran rampant on the field, discovering new planets and fighting alien wars. I was a general, a dragon, and sometimes the villain who was crushed. I had already been a quick learner, and one day I walked into a room like many along with many other children. I was told to take a test. I believed it was another one of those bothersome pop quizzes my teachers used to administer, and I was wrong. A few weeks later, my mom told me “Congratulations, you’re now one of the smart children.” Next year, instead of going to middle school with my friends, I went to a special program, the magnet program they called it. There, I found new people, new teachers - a new life. People told me that learning was serious now; the attitude confining me changed.
The program was a breeding ground for prodigies, and it did its job well. Yelling out in class no longer made everyone laugh, and people only wanted to do this or that during lunch break. The doors to my fantasy worlds were shut closed. I followed my class blindly to lunch every day, and the conversations became monotonous. I began losing my identity, because I was too timid to bring it out without the support of others. I lost my motivation because of the people around me. Other students started talking about high schools - even colleges - and grades, which were now suddenly more important than playing ever was. My days, unable to join those of the past, resorted to accepting new reality, the reality of being a middle school kid with a prodigious future. Every day I went home, my life instantly was thrown out onto a chart to be compared with those of others. They’d drill what they thought was necessary in living properly straight to my head, and it didn’t include happiness. My complaints were all for naught, just like my dreams, they were discarded. I began dropping hobbies, and enjoyment was stripped to the core. Even if I finished everything, I still needed to keep thinking about learning. My parents started reprimanding me for playing video games or riding my bike instead of reading. They told me “reading is playing,” even if the said reading was of textbooks. I ended up becoming part of the masses, even more transparent than most. Reflecting, I started tearing up, if that even matters.


*****
There was a dim light emanating from all around. I could hear the laughter of children, the rustle of grass, and the sound of tumbling on the ground. However, I could only see the silhouettes of the children themselves. They zoomed out further and further, and I wanted to reach out towards them. However, my body refused to comply. Instead, I saw a shadow of myself when I was small. It was me holding a kite, and it was flying in the spring winds. I remember that kite, it was the same one I had cut free before I stopped going to the park. I wanted it to fly free, but this time it stayed shackled to the string. My younger self pulled the kite down to him. I yelled out “Set it free! Let it fly!” but nothing came out. The world grew dimmer, and my past-self began walking opposite of the direction the other children went.
*****
I stood up after finishing my scarce breakfast, unable to conceive something new to do. I just had a second depressing dream, and I questioned if maybe I had thought too deeply into my past. What did it matter anyway? Sophomore year was going to be the same as freshman year was, a lengthy drag across a desolate plane. But today was a Saturday, one of the few days in a week where I could stay home. Home was my safe haven, even if all I did was read or do work. I could always edge in a tiny bit of time for me to think freely. However, the day felt empty. I had finished for homework already, and yearned for something else to do. I sat around, loitering through my house, spending some time in every crevice, hoping to glimpse the elusive dreams I held so long ago.
I knew I was forgetting something, so I glanced out the window, feeling around in my mind. I observed the neighbor’s kids playing outside, enjoying life, and I remembered. One of my friends had invited me to a pool party, but I had speedily refused. I wondered, would it be so horrible to go have some fun? I went downstairs to ask my parents if I could go outside for just a couple of hours. The words had already spilled out of my mouth when recalled, these were my parents. Starting to back off, knowing the answer was no, I started back up the stairs. I stopped after hearing my mom’s answer. “Go back to work honey, shouldn’t you be trying to improve? Your grades aren’t looking too bright, and you know what the colleges think about grades.” Usually that would be fine, but something inside snapped out, and it told me to stop groveling in what could be my life. I flipped around, and yelled “Why can’t you let me live my own life? You’ve limited me my entire life. Every time I argue back it’s only considered secondary, fun being something I would inevitably have to lose in life. You always compare me to other children, so can’t you see how much more lively they as opposed to me?” My mom gaped, and my dad walked in from another room to investigate. I expected him to be the enforcer, come in to quell the rebellion inside me. However, it may have been something in my tone, or just because it was my first tantrum in a while, but both of them looked stunned. My mom opened her mouth, “Well if you felt so strongly, you could’ve…” Her voice began to feel like white noise, and I started to blank out. I ran before she could finish the sentence, I burst out of my familiar asylum of home and ran. I ran down the road, too scared to hear the truth. I knew what it was the moment I saw their expressions, I had never spoken up about my feelings. The most I had ever done before was complain. It was my fault for staying cooped up all these years, storing my dreams away somewhere zipped up in my heart. I cried for a good hour in the park, knowing it mattered to me.
I went home and told them I was heading towards the pool, and my parents didn’t try to stop me. I wanted to apologize for yelling at them, knowing it was my own fault. I was the one who hadn’t told my parents what I really wanted. I had lived subdued, as if being pulled forward slowly by a chain I didn’t try to resist. A chain that if I pulled back on, I could possibly break. But I had felt that chain was my only connection to life. I wasn’t pulling back, because no one around me was pulling back for me.
I arrived at the pool, and I felt a new sensation while I was paying the entrance fee. The familiarity of it jolted my memories, it was excitement, excitement to see friends and be free. I walked over, and my friend who invited me look surprised, yet he wore a warm smile on his face. He asked, “Hey, you seem alive today, care to join us?” We held some small talk and played cards, and contrary to my old thoughts, there was nothing there that felt like it separated me from them. If there ever was a chasm between me and everyone else, I had bridged it. All I needed to do was be myself, and I instantly became a part of the gathering. The next part wasn’t as easy. Everyone else easily slipped into the pool, swimming in the cool, refreshing water. The moment I tried to dip in, I immediately hopped back out. The water was freezing. My friend, Sam, turned around and reached out an arm, welcoming me in. He said, “Hey Jack, no worries, you’ll get used to it. If you need help staying afloat just ask any of us” with a smirk on his face, joking. I took the outstretched offering, letting the water engulf my body. The chill coursed through my body, and I felt freed. And I floated unhindered, staring up at the sky, as I spotted a kite floating gently in the breeze. The next morning, I awoke to a new day, ready to rebuild my future from the shambles of my life.