Through The Dark

6 - Olivia

6 - Olivia

The pounding in my head made me groan in response to the song that my phone used as an alarm to wake me up every single day. It could not be Monday already. It just could not.

The last thing I wanted was to start the hell of a routine I had to endure during the week. If there was something worse than having a few disgusting teenage boys checking me out as if I was the first girl they had ever seen, was having to deal with phony girls that hated me for getting their boyfriends' or crushes' attention from them.

The worse part was that I had to deal with it throughout every single day. It was exhausting to say the least, an endless cycle of monotony that was driving me crazy.

They would all greet me at the entrance of the school and some would offer to carry my things and such –like, why would they even offer to carry someone else's things, who am I, Blair Waldorf?

I had heard them talking behind my back so many times. I would rant about it to my boyfriend the first times that it happened and after he told me to shut up because I was being annoying I started to keep it to myself. I suppose that was the day when I started to feel completely alone, when I realized the farce of life I was carrying on my shoulders.

Flashbacks of last night flooded my tormented memory and I scowled as I searched for my phone. My eyes were still closed and I tumbled things down as my hands touched –more like smashed- around to feel my phone. It took me a while and a bit of squinting due to the light coming in through the curtains of my room to find it. When I finally did, the song was over already and I just tossed the phone aside on my mattress. I let out a heavy sigh as I looked up to the ceiling.

I tried to smile, to remind myself that I was happy, but then I remembered I was not and everything just crumbled down some more. The only good thing I could find was that as the week started it meant no ballet until next weekend. My part time job was daily, though. So I still had to endure that.

I huffed frustrated as I flopped on my back and opened my eyes widely. I blinked a couple of times until the sleep and the memories from last night were pushed into a dark corner and then I hopped off my bed. I looked back at it and sighed sadly.

That bed contained so many shed tears and it shared with me some of my deepest secrets and most of my fears and worries. In it, I had cried when my father had left to do his service to the country –leaving the service he had to do to me as his only daughter aside with promises of coming back soon- and I had cried the first time I realized my mother did not care about me. Well, the day I realized she had never really cared and that until now she had been only pretending. Showing her true colors, as some might say.

Sometimes my life seemed like a really complicated television show. Like I was in the sixth season of my reality show, where and when everything and everyone has had so many things thrown at them that it is almost –if not completely- impossible and just plain schemed.

I shrugged it all off, like I did every single day for what felt like the past century. I dragged myself towards the big mirror I had in my room –courtesy of my beloved mother to whom appearance mattered most than anything else- and cringed at the sight.

It was pretty much physically painful to see the girl that was standing in front of me. Not only was I sleep deprived and looked awful due to it as my mother had warned me so many times before, this girl that looked back at me looked so unhappy and miserable that it was not funny anymore. I could not attribute it to a bad hair day, or poorly applied makeup or anything like that.