The Secrets Within Pages

Empty Smoke

"Life is cruel, Eleanor. It's best I teach you this, not the world." Father explained, pacing up and down my room. 

I stopped applying myself in my studies. Well, not purposely. Lately, I couldn't find the motivation to do anything. I was exhausted in every sense of the word. I couldn't even find it in me to do the most basic of tasks. I couldn't shower, I couldn't clean my room, I found it exerting to change my clothes.

I love to write. It was a burning urge that filled me with an elation nothing else could. And now, I couldn't even write. A barrier had built in my brain, one of a blank nothingness. 

It was terrifying. 

Inside, I'm stuck in a void banging on the walls of my brain, begging it to let me out and bring life back into me.

To just move.

Outside, my face, a desolate ghostland.

Day by day, I felt colours dull and fade into shades of black and white. 

A candle whose flame had burnt, only tendrils of smoke lurking. 

I thought I kept the forest fire to myself, but it's flames were too powerful. Slowly, engulfing every inch of my life. Starting with school. Which my father, of course, realised the second my grades began slipping.

"Okay, father." I reply flatly, having no energy to argue or defend myself. It wasn't worth it, he wouldn't understand.

Nowadays, I felt like no one did.

"Do not brush me off, Eleanor. You're being so lazy. What makes you think you'll be top of your class in Oxford acting like this." He snapped, hands gesturing his words.

I didn't say anything at that. I just stared passed him.

I was starting university in a couple weeks. The college I worked so hard to get into. The college of my dreams where I was to study my passion. I didn't even want it anymore.

"Are you even listening to me?!" 

At that, my ears lost the ability to hear. 

"Cassius! Leave her own!" My mother's distant voice shouted. 

Everything after that was a mess of mumbles and shouting. My mother yelling at my father. My father blaming my mother for whatever was wrong with me. 

Being in the maze of life wasn't as daunting when you knew what you were doing. When you had a map in your hands guiding you. But, I had lost my map. 

I was stuck. I hated feeling stuck. I hated not knowing what was happening in my life, being so useless. 

I pushed myself too far. So when I fell, I didn't know how to get up again.

There were nights where my pillow was too soaked in tears to sleep on, when I had to cover my mouth because now, my weeping evolved into audible howls. When the ache in my chest was too heavy and my body would tremble and legs would kick in frustration.

And then, there were nights I felt nothing. I lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling blankly. 

I'm no natural. I wasn't innately gifted or talented. I had to try so hard, all the time. And most times, it wouldn't even work out. 

I prayed very night that I would pull myself together in time for Oxford. There was nothing more frustratingly aggravating then wanting something so bad but not having the motivation to go after it.