Medusa

1

In this moment, my body is in school. But my mind is not.

My body is standing in the brand new highschool our city just built. There used to be three highschools in Serpent's Bay. Three old, crumbling highschools. This summer, they decided to knock them all down instead of trying to save them.

They demolished the old buildings that held decades and decades of memories. They knocked them all down, one by one, and built one new school that was big enough for everyone.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that. In a way, this should feel like my first day at highschool all over again.

I should feel nervous, or maybe excited. I should feel the way I felt three years ago. I should feel butterflies in my stomach, butterflies that were ready to take flight, and land on any flower in the new fields they wanted to.

But, I don't.

Instead, I feel the squeaky clean floors beneath my shoes. I feel the crowded air around me. I feel my hands against the cool, pristine metal of my never-before-touched locker door.

I can feel all of these things physically. Like I said, my body is here.

My mind isn't.

In my mind, just for now, I'm still a child.

Not too young. Not young enough that my parents tucked me, kissing me on the forehead and flicking off the light while they smiled back at me.  Not young enough that I didn't know how the world worked, when I believed in magic and fairy tales. Not young enough that I thought my mom and dad were all I needed.

But, not too old. Not old enough that I thought I didn't need them at all.

There's a sweet spot in childhood. A small, brief, fast passing sweet spot.

In that sweet spot, you begin to realize that you are not what your parents think you are. You are not your mother's sweet baby. You are not your father's hopes and dreams. You are you. You have your own likes. You have your own dislikes.

And finally, you have some freedom.

You spend time in your room on your own, and no one checks on you. No one checks on you because you are in the sweet spot. You're old enough that no one is worried you'll stick a knife in a electrical socket, frying your organs before you realize how fucking bad of an idea it is.

But you're young enough that you're still innocent. No one is worried about all the bad things that will inevitably come. No one is worried that you've snuck out, or you've snuck in someone that shouldn't be there. No one is worried about drugs, or alcohol, or cigarettes.

In my mind, I'm in the sweet spot.

In my mind, I'm alone in my room. I am alone in my room, and there's music playing. I am alone in my room, and no one checks on me.

I am alone in my room, and nothing bad has happened to me.

I am alone in my room, and I'm still innocent.

I am alone in my room, and I don't hate everyone.

I am alone in my room, and I don't hate anyone.

I am alone in my room. Nothing bad has happened.

And though I wish I could go back in time, and blissfully enjoy the limited years in the sweet spot, I can't.

I'm not alone in my room. I am here, in the brand new, shiny school, where everyone hates me.

Well, I suppose that only a third of the students hate me. But, soon enough, they all will. One by one, or maybe five by five, ten by ten. Group by group, they'll learn. They're learn about me, against my will.