Songbird

chapter 4

At what point do we learn to move on and forget the past? At what point does it become a distant memory we look back and reflect on? If that is even possible or just wishful thinking.

If you're constantly being surrounded by the reminders will it ever go away? The pit of despair burning like a fire in your stomach that only seems to intensify as the days go by.

I can't imagine ever being able to forget. Not when the reminders sit in front of me, taunting me.

As I assumed, things have gone back to how they were as if the last couple of days never happened.

Sage and I are back to being strangers, almost as if we had never met.

It seems as though the only constant I have in my life now is art. It's the only thing I can turn to when my emotions get the better of me, the only thing that's been there for me through it all.

It's there, but it's not enough.

It's not enough to control the urge to paint my skin with the blood of my past and present. It's not enough to take away the loneliness I feel in my little glass box.

It's not enough but it's all I have now.

Sitting here in the cafeteria at the only empty table, I unfortunately have an unobstructed view of his table. He sits there with his friends, ones I once considered my own, smiling and laughing.

It hurts that even after what happened the other day he can go on like nothing happened. Maybe I wanted him to leave, to stop playing with my feelings, but it hurts being forgotten.

Being replaced.

But as much as it hurts, I'm still happy that he's happy, even if I can't be part of it.

Normally I would've gone to the library, but it's occupied today by some stupid, meaningless club.

Coming to the cafeteria was a big mistake on my part, I can't move on if I have constant reminders thrown in my face.

It feels like I'm drowning in the happiness of other people, but it won't be for long. If everything goes as planned, I'll be out of this place as soon as I have enough money.

On top of that, I've had a splitting headache from my cold a majority of today already. Luckily that's my only remaining symptom aside of tiredness, but that's mainly due to my lack of sleep.

For right now, here at school, I'll just have to stick it out.

Since I can't go to the library I head outside to a usually empty spot behind the school in front of the soccer fields.

I sit down in my usual spot and pull out a pack of cigarettes hidden in one of those protractor kit tins. It's just big enough to fit them and my small lighter.

"Smoking is horrible for your health you know."

Surprisingly, I'm not even startled by the sudden accompaniment like I'd be on any other day, instead, all is say is, "I'm aware."

I finally look to see who it is and find out that it's a guy from my art class. I don't know him that well, we've been in the same art class every year and have talked a few times. I think his name is Elliot. He stands at around 6ft tall and has curly black hair and blue-grey eyes the same shade as mine. It's strange, but he looks almost like the male version of me, despite the obvious difference in styles. He's wearing light wash jeans and a red hoodie, whereas I'm wearing all black.

I turn back towards the field, leaning my head back against the wall and exhale a small cloud of smoke into the air around us.

I can tell he's uneasy with me smoking around him so I put it out on the ground beside me before flicking it away.