Keep An Open Mind {Lynn Gunn}

5) It's Hard To Find Life In Something That's Already Died

The bell rang again. Done, school was finally over, for today.

I was ready to go home but someone tapped on my shoulder, and I turned to face my Art teacher, Mr. Carlisle.

"Lyndsey, can I talk to you in private?" I raised my eyebrows but nodded, of course. I was so not going to say no to a teacher, especially not to him. He was one of the very few teachers I got along with, probably my favorite of all.

I followed him in the now empty Art classroom. He stepped aside to let me walk in, then shut the door as I sat on the front desk and tossed my bag on the floor.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, politely. He sat at his desk and looked up at me, straight into my eyes.

"Well... Your last drawings were a bit..." he slowly started, searching for the right words. I was getting used to get talked to that way, everyone that knew about my status was doing their best to pick the most accurate and gentle words with me.

I didn't want that. I didn't want pity or anything, I wanted to be treated like anyone else. And I sure as hell didn't want my marks to depend on it.

"Bad? That's the word you're searching for? You can say it, I'm not offended." I said, trying not to sound like spitting the words to him. But he shook his head.

"They were good. Brilliant, actually. The problem is that they looked... well, they were kind of creepy. They were dark... really dark. I don't want to be nosey or insensible, but does it have to do with your-"

"My desire of death?" I cut him off. He just stared at me in surprise, but no words were needed.

"Probably, who knows. After all who can blame if I aspire at it? Sir, it may be just my humble opinion, but I think this world here is way darker than whatever death can offer you."

I wasn't afraid of saying it out loud. I don't care what they think about me, if they ask for my opinion they have to expect a very honest and sincere answer.

"Lyndsey, death doesn't offer you anything. It doesn't give you options."

"But when you live in a cage, that's not life at all. Besides, I think I'm already dead." I responded, truthfully.

Let's be honest now! I did consider myself kind of dead. That sparkly tiny flame blazing in my chest was the only thing keeping me alive, but it seemed that everyone was trying to blow It off.

It was staring to fade and I was starting to get cold, I didn't want that life. My words were meaningless to everyone, they were just letters flying in the wind, echoing through the air. Not even amplifiers nor megaphones were going to push my words in being actually listened to, and not just heard.

"That's what I was talking about, Lyndsey. I saw it in your drawings. You're starting to worry-"

"Sir, I've already told you. It's hard to find life in something that's already died." (A/N: huge reference here)

"Thank you for trying but an artist expresses their real feelings, right? If mine are that transparent, better off that way. The truth behind them doesn't affect my curriculum nor marks." I finished, hopped off the desk, grabbed my bag and hurried out of the room.

I swiftly made my way out of the school, I was being overwhelmed by all the pressure they were throwing on me.

I sat on the bench near the sidewalk of the school, waiting for my mum to pick me up.

I thought about Mr. Carlisle's words, 'death doesn't give you options'. He was right, it doesn't. I wasn't going to die by myself... no.

Perhaps I never really wanted it, but I felt like I was already dead. Such a heavy feeling for a fifteen-year-old, wasn't it?

What-so-ever.

I just wanted to go back home, get some rest and daydream about that blue rabbit who was haunting my dreams. I know this was surreal, but it was really happening, and in the back of my mind I knew I would follow that rabbit once for good, sooner or later.

This is not just all in your head.