Square One

Have you ever misplaced an object? Like a book or a DVD, It was misplaced right? Because it has a place in which it belongs. You have a specific spot for it. Well my life is like that, I am misplaced. The only difference between me and a misplaced object, is that the object has a place to begin with, I don't. I don't belong here. I am lost in the maze of life, searching for the centre, except that centre doesn't exist. I can keep searching until the sky above me collapses on to my shoulders, but I will never find it. And it just pisses me off that I'm still alive and have to live through this. I have to live through a life that is clearly going nowhere.

This is my auntie’s house. I used to live in here, untilI finished my junior years. I used to live here before, before my p-parents decided we should move out and start fresh somewhere new. It was all so good, we were so happy after we left this place. I never thought I’d have to come back here, come back here to where my life was miserable. Why did this happen to me? Where did I go wrong? We were all happy where we were, before those thick hot flames brought down our fresh start, along with my family. The only ones I have and will ever love. I’m never going to love again. I’ve learned that when you hold on to something too dearly, the harder it will be to let them go. All of that love, and then all of the suffering. What was it all for? I lost them all in the end. I lost them.

The thought brought fresh hot tears to my eyes, I walked over to the large windowsill, which was large enough for me to sit on and low enough for me to see everything outside. I walked over there to escape the darkness of this small room right now. I can't face the dark anymore, I can't after what it brought to me.  I sat on the white windowsill, the warmth and brightness of the light covering me like a blanket. I clutched onto myself for dear life, letting all the tears come out for the hundredth time. I brought my knees to my chest and held on so tight, I would’ve thought my blood flow stoped. Why did I have to make it out and not them? No, I thought to myself, I’ve been over this already. You will not feel sorry for yourself anymore. It’s been two months and today you start school. 'Be strong', my mother said to me. But how could I be? How could I be when I needed her in order to do that? I needed all three of them.

I wiped off the wet tears that just never seemed to stop with the sleeve of my shirt and turned to look out the window. I noticed a guy in the same uniform I was going to wear, walking past. He caught my glance with what seemed to be dangerous but soft brown eyes, expressionless he turned back to facing the foot path ahead of him and continued walking. Tall with messy brown hair and broad shoulders, he looked like the protective type. That's probably what Jason would've turned out like, if he had the chance to go on with his life. I inhaled sharply, not wanting to start crying again.

I sighed, this was the last place I wanted to come back to, school used to be hell for me here. Now that I was back, what was I to expect? I stepped off the windowsill and onto the cream carpet on the floor. Wiping away the stray tears on my face, I went to get ready for the first day of my senior years. This was it.

After taking a good long shower, the shacking seemed to stop. I looked almost normal again, almost. The depression and sadness still filled my eyes, and the sick feeling in my stomach never seemed to leave. I felt broken, shattered. As if a large bulldozer got thrown to the window, crushing any chance of its life, I felt like that right now. The three people I loved most in my life were all taken away from me. My life just seemed to be and endless scenario of bad shit happening.

I stopped one last time in front of the hallway mirror to look at myself. My aunty had already left for work and I had to lock up. I looked down below the mirror to find a family portrait. My aunty had this photo of us; it was the last family photo we took. About a year ago, we went to the local park at my old neighbourhood and my 4 year old brother Jason took out his water gun and sprayed all of us head to toe. Of course we got revenge on him, but in the end we all got wet anyway. My aunty had been there to capture the photo of all of us laughing and throwing water at each other, all of us drenched and uncontrollably laughing. It was a captured memory.

I guess it was just a matter of being at the right place, at the right time. The exact opposite phrase defines my life. I picked up the photo to look at my family. My little brother staring at us mischievously with his big water gun, he could barely carry it let alone soak us with it, yet he somehow managed to. Those blonde messy locks and his beautiful green, happy eyes. He was so young, why couldn’t I die instead of him? Why did he have to?

I got teary at the thought and quickly blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. 'I love you.' I whispered to the photo and set it down in its place. I took a look at myself before I left. I couldn’t cry again. I stared at the person in front of me. She looked terrible. All the light and happiness drained out of her. I stared back into her brown, almond-shaped eyes; I can’t even remember the time that they were full of happiness.I blinked the tears away again, my long black eyelashes, wet from tears, brushing against my cheekbones. Her brown curly hair lay beneath her shoulders, and the blue senior uniform looked normal on her. Normal, that was good, she’d blend in now. I checked my watch and saw that I had to leave now. I stepped out of the house, closing the door behind me. Stepping out to face reality, I knew it wasn't much different from the nightmares I had seen or experienced. They were reality, and now I had to go back there, go back to square one, in a school where the nightmares only begun.

This, is square one.

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