My Lifeline

1

It's the start of September, but it was March only yesterday.

Winter is coming back around, and I hate it. It always brings a gloomy mood along with it, punishing me to stay in bed longer and listen to the bad thoughts which race through my mind. The summer is hardly any different, but there's something about it which almost seems peaceful. For the entire summer holidays, I never once went to the beach in a bikini to a good tan for when school started again. I just slept, and slept, and slept some more. I liked it that way. I didn't want to step one foot in public. The furthest I went out was to my back garden, but that was just to feel the sun against my fingers and face. I closed my eyes and spread them out like a bird, feeling the soft wind brush past me. It's moments like that where I genuinely want to be a bird. They seem so carefree. I crave for that kind of feeling.

I stare out of my window and gaze up at the sky which is a dull shade of blue. By the looks of the leaves on the trees outside, I can tell that it isn't that windy. That will change in a few months, and I'm dreading it. There's nothing I hate more than the cold.

Slouching at the realisation that today is the first day back at school, I walk to my long sized mirror and stare sadly at the outfit I've picked out. There's nothing special about it, just a black hoodie and black jeans. I'm almost glad that my wardrobe is full of clothes that don't make me stand out. I like to blend in and hide from the world, I like to be alone with myself and my books.

My brown hair rests on my shoulders, almost covering my entire face. Deciding to make at least a little effort, I tie it into a bun. It was supposed to be tidy, but it's sort of turned into a messy bun which I can't be bothered to fix.

I used to have natural golden hair which everyone used to obsess over. I got annoyed by the unwanted attention, so I dyed it brown in a split decision. Part of me regrets it, only because it's a lot of effort to redo my roots when they grow through. I guess it's better than having people stare and try to touch it. My mum said I would regret it, but I really don't care. It's my hair, but it seems to affect her the most.

Looking at the time, I see that it's half past eight and I only have half an hour to get to school, so I grab my backpack and travel down the stairs to greet my mum.

We only ever see each other in the mornings because she works all day and sometimes all night. Her work shifts are hectic and she hardly ever has time for me. I hardly have enough energy to care, and I know that sounds bad — I feel guilty for feeling like that — but I can't help it.

"River, you're up," she acknowledges me.

I sit on a stall and rest my elbows on the counter. "First day back at sixth form."

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

My mum is a brilliant mum. Since I was born, she has been like some sort of superhero. She works her ass off to support our family, she does everything in her power to ensure that I am happy and live a good, healthy life.

I'm surprised she hasn't noticed how numb I am. I hardly ever smile, and even when I do, it's forced.

I wish I could be happy for her. I wish I could flick a switch and be perfectly okay like my other siblings. She's so proud of them for their achievements...I wonder if she would be proud of me if she knew what was going on inside my head. I wonder what she would do.

"River," she sings, waving her hand in front of my face.

My mum laughs and shakes her head at me. She has the most perfect smile which would warm any heart. She's almost fifty, but she only has two grey hair and hardly any wrinkles, she doesn't look a day past thirty.

I wonder if I'll live past thirty.

"Hmm?" I snap myself out of my reoccurring daydream.

"I asked how you're feeling."