heavy-hearted | fillie

two

i can't even leave my bedroom so I keep pourin'
and I ain't seen the light of day since,
well that's not important, I'm done
—————

Physically pulling apart her eyes that morning was extremely difficult, her whole body told her to stay wrapped up in her warm blanket, to stay in bed and not even bother attending college, but college wasn't like school.

She was on A level courses and if she missed a couple of lessons then she could get kicked out instantly, attendance really was mandatory unless she had a reasonable excuse.

Modern day rules really pissed her off, the fact that you need to physically be unwell and have a temperature or a tickly cough in order to be classed as ill was downright insulting. Mental illnesses are maybe even worse than a common cold, so if she told a teacher that she was feeling too depressed to come in then why would she be expected to cheer herself up and come skipping to school with a completely different attitude, it didn't work like that.

She fucking wished it did.

She lifted the heavy blanket off of her small frame, slightly shivering at the sudden impact of the cold air around her. She tip toed around her bed, opening the door quietly before turning the heating dial up in the hallway before running back to the safety of her own bedroom.

Her eyes felt bitty from the crying she endured the day before, grabbing her own towel that hung on the radiator before entering the bathroom.

Looking at herself in the mirror was tough, she tried to avoid it all together but it was pretty difficult when a huge mirror sat above the bathroom sink. She dared not to look up at herself, turning the shower on and making it the hottest it'll go just to steam up the mirror, making it hard to see her reflection, even if she wanted to.

The warm water made goosebumps immediately rise upon her skin, feeling comfortable in her body for the first time in a while. It was like a relief washed over her for a few seconds, finally able to breathe which was ironic because the steam that surrounded her made this action a tad more difficult. But then reality set in as her neutral expression returned, grabbing the shampoo and rubbing it into her head.

————

The doors to her college automatically opened as the cool air con blew directly on her face as she walked into the building. She looked around and saw students in big groups or girls gossiping while collecting their coffee's and Millie walked up the stairs, ready for her first class.

She walked down the hallway of the college with her head down low, girls who used to go to her high school sniggered at her obvious low self-concept. They called her a loner and made fun of her hair often but she brushed them off of her shoulders until she gets home, cutting the words deep into her wrists. She didn't let the people know that their words effected her because at the time she'd just roll her eyes or dip her head slightly lower and just deal with her feelings once she was in the safety of her own bedroom.

She entered the classroom, sitting at her regular desk before opening her study guide.

"So, what perspective did theorist Ivan Pavlov study around?" Their teacher, Mark spoke out loud. Mark was a big man, he stood tall and his voice echoed across the small classroom prominently. Millie liked him, she also liked his style of teaching. He was very laid back considering he used to work in a prison before changing his career path at the last minute to study Psychology.