I wasn't dying if that was what you were thinking.
I may act like it, and anyone who saw my life would probably think of it as the closest thing to death, but I wasn't dying. But it may as well be like death.
I always kept to myself. Barely spoke to another person unless I absolutely necessary. I was, and still am, distant. Always preoccupied with something, and if I weren't, I'd find something to do that'd let me stay home or somewhere where I can be alone and shut the world out.
My best friend, Mia, told me that most people at school would describe me as the perfect definition of an introvert. But that would imply I was shy and reticent by nature. The truth was that the life I had chosen to live was a choice I made comfortably. Not caring if that choice ended up hurting others and not caring how others thought of me. I don't think that made me a bad person. I was just never aware that I did it.
But I wasn't dying. I may act like it, and the thoughts running through my mind, may appear like it, but I wasn't dying. Instead, it was like I had an epiphany. That my life, as a seventeen year old girl, was embarrassingly boring.
"Hey, you okay?" dad whispered to me.
I jerked out of my train of thoughts and peered over to dad who sat beside me. I noticed the room was beginning to empty as people headed towards the lounge room.
I shook my head. "I'm fine," I mumbled.
Dad sighed, his eyes looking at me sympathetically. "I know you hate funerals, but the family asked me so many times, I couldn't say no," dad repeated.
I forced a smile. "It's okay. I was just thinking," I said.
Dad nodded once. "Alright. We'll stay for another ten minutes, then we'll get out of here," he said.
"Yes, please," I sighed.
"Tell Mia that we'll be at her house in thirty minutes," dad said. I nodded and sent a quick text to Mia.
I couldn't wait to get out of here.
I never liked funerals. I guess they weren't the type of event anyone ever looked forward to or liked. But I hated the sadness that lingered in the air. I hated listening to everyone talk about their fondest memories of the person who passed away. As if it was supposed to make us feel better and bring us closer together when in actual fact, it just reminded us that they were gone and were never coming back. I especially hated it whenever dad forced me to go.
As a doctor at the general hospital, he tended to be invited to a lot of funerals and dad never knew how to say no, much to my dismay. Usually, whenever I went, I would always sit in the corner, a little annoyed that I had to be there. I know I sound like a brat but being at funerals always reminded me of mums. And all funerals do is remind me of mum's funeral.
But for the first time, my mind didn't grumble with annoyance that I was here. Nor did I peer over to dad, begging him with my eyes to get out of here. Well, I was like that at first until Mrs Maryborough spoke.
I looked over to the front of the room where Mrs Maryborough stood beside her sister. She was holding in her tears and while looking at her made me feel sad, her speech kept repeating in my mind like a song stuck on repeat. Particularly, that two sentences: 'And while my dear Roger left us at a young age, there was so much he taught us. That is to live to the fullest, live with no regrets, and always try to achieve the impossible, because what other reason is there to live for.
Dad kept to his word and we left ten minutes later. During the car ride home, questions after questions kept running through my head. The same questions I wondered during Mrs Maryborough's speech. If I died tomorrow, would I regret anything? If I were on my death bed this very moment, would I be certain that I lived a life worth living like Roger had?
Sadly, the answer that kept coming back was that there was so much to regret and so little to be happy about.
I wasn't as dull as a rock or lived a miserable life.
The last exciting thing that happened to me was so long ago I barely even remembered it. My life, as it was now, was structured. It was safe. It was like a cycle of the same thing every day of school, study, cook, read, sleep, and then it'd repeat all over again.
I never hated it. But I never loved it either. It was a life where I'd never get a scar, or risk embarrassing myself. My life was boring. I was boring.
Dad stopped the car in front of Mia's house. I quickly said goodbye to dad and rushed to the door, ringing the doorbell. Mia answered moments later, standing at the door with a large, goofy grin. She was already holding onto her laptop against her chest as though her life depended on it, or more likely, out of pure fear that she was going to drop it.
"Hey, Lizzie," she greeted teasingly.
I instantly cringed. "Why do you keep calling me that?" I whined.
"But calling you Lizzie is too much fun," Mia retorted.
I narrowed my eyes. My name was Elizabeth. I hated it but to make it worse, Mia would teasingly call me Lizzie. I wasn't sure why mum, or dad, named me Elizabeth. I thought it was outdated. It felt too posh for a teenage girl who lived in a small suburb in Melbourne and spent her days avoiding life. So, instead, I demanded that I be called Ellie.
We went into Mia's room as she told me about her holiday to Europe. She gushed over the countless number of chocolates she ate in Switzerland, how she tried snail and now she could declare that she hated it, and that she reached the top of the Eiffel tower. The last one made me shiver.
I laid on her bed once we entered her room, spreading out my arms and leaving no space for anyone else to sit. Mia took her usual spot at her desk chair and opened her laptop.
"So, how was the funeral?" Mia asked.
"It was like any other funerals," I mumbled although it was a lie. This one was a little different. It had me leaving questioning about my own life.
"Well, what more can you expect?" Mia shrugged. "But on a lighter note, excited for school tomorrow?" she asked with feigned enthusiasm.
I groaned. "Please don't remind me," I mumbled. Although I spend the majority of my time studying, it didn't mean I loved it. I hated it. But I had no choice but to do it. It served as a good distraction. Meaning, every time I tried studying my mind easily found something else completely fascinating to do. That included staring at the ceiling fan.
"Oh, come on! Aren't you even a little excited? We're in year twelve—final year! I can't believe it."
Nor could I.
Eleven years of primary school and high school all done, and now, I only had one more year left until high school was officially, and forever, over.
"Just think about it. This time next year, we'll be talking about our first day at University," Mia said excitedly. I only smiled uncomfortably. "Or maybe it would be you talking about University. I'm going to take a gap year."
"Does your parents know?" I asked, knowing full well that her parents were against the idea of a gap year.
"I haven't told them yet," Mia smiled sheepishly.
Mia had been thinking about taking a gap year for a while. A gap year was a year you took a break from studying. Mia was planning to take the year off to do some traveling and work before jumping back into it at University.
"But I don't know what I want to study. A gap year will definitely help me with that."
Well, she still had nine months to figure it out. I wondered if I would figure it out by then too.
"You're awfully quiet this evening," Mia noted suddenly. Which was shocking because Mia wasn't a very observant person. "I mean, more quiet than usual. Is everything okay?"
I realised I wasn't paying much attention to her. "Oh, I'm sorry," I mumbled as I sat up straight on the bed.
"What's wrong?"
I shook my head and shrugged. "It's nothing," I lied.
Mia sighed. "That's not very convincing. Did something happen at the funeral?"
"Uh," I was lost with words. I looked at my hands and picked on my nails uncomfortably.
"Seriously, what's wrong?"
"My life's boring, isn't it?" I blurted. I was hoping that to sound a little more casual, but casual was never my forte.
Mia blinked a couple of times. She looked confused. "Uh, yeah. It is. I've been telling you that for the past three years." It was true. "Why are you bring this up now?"
I shrugged again. "I don't know. At the funeral today," I paused momentarily. "The mum kept talking about all the things her son achieved—he did like a billion volunteering stuff, helped make so many people's lives better and he even travelled the world."
"That is impressive."
"He was only twenty six when he died."
"That's sad." I could tell Mia knew I had a point, but she couldn't figure it out yet. To be honest, I wasn't really sure what my point was either.
"I don't know. It just made me think. It's final year and I never got a pedicure."
Mia frowned. "Okay, then. We can get a pedicure after school tomorrow if that's what you want?"
I sighed. "No, it's not just that. I mean, what am I doing with my life?" I sounded so dramatic.
"Studying. Living? Setting yourself up for success?"
My expression dropped. "I know but... I feel like I haven't done anything exciting. I'm almost eighteen and I still haven't done things that a thirteen year old would've done by now. I just keep wondering if I died tomorrow, would I be able to die happy?"
It was like Mia finally understood the point and nodded thoughtfully. She shifted in her seat and picked at her nails. "Just create a bucket list then."
I looked at her blankly. "You know what a bucket list is for, right?" I asked.
Mia nodded.
"It's a list someone makes before they kick the bucket," I explained, still unsure if Mia knew.
"Yeah, and?"
"A list of things to do before I die isn't really going to help my problem of having an uneventful teenage life."
Mia rolled her eyes. "For someone who's the smartest kid at school, you really are dumb," she laughed. I frowned. "I'm not suggesting that you make a bucket list in the literal sense. What happened in the past already happened. You can't go back in time and change all of it, but you can start changing it now by making a list of all the things you wanted to do and complete them before graduation."
It wasn't a bad idea. "How many you were thinking?" I asked sceptically.
"As many as you like. Of all the things you never got to do as a high schooler crammed into a single year."
In one year? I didn't know how to feel about that. It was final year. It was the year I should be studying and living like an introvert. Whatever grade I get would determine whether I'd get into the degree I wanted to get into (although I had no idea what at the moment) and what University I get into. I wasn't sure cramming all the things I never did before in a single year—for this year—was going to help.
"Now cramming is my expertise, and I can tell you it can be done."
"I don't know."
Mia set her laptop on the desk and placed her hand on mine. I looked into Mia's bright blue eyes that stared at mine sternly.
"Ellie, this is your last year to do the things you want. Would you rather spend this year studying your butt off like you've done the past five years and live with regret knowing that you had a boring high school life? Or would you rather spend this year with memories you will never forget and making mistakes that you need to make?"
The former sounded nicer. But I was a realist. I would probably regret picking the former. Yet, Mia was right. It was now or never.
"Alright, fine. I'll do it!" I smiled.