Two sides of everything

Night and day

I might want to die.

I am not suicidal. I would never get to climb a bridge and jump. I wouldn't be able to. I know people will suffer.

It's just that, if a car would be coming towards me quickly, I might not feel the urge to move out of the way.

My name is Cara. I am 16. I go to a great school in London and I have good marks. My parents are proud of me (actually, my dad, mostly, because mom usually just wants me to get better and better). I love foreign languages (Italian, French, German) and literature. However, Most of my classes are of Maths, Chemistry, Biology, Physics and stuff like that. The reason? My mom still hopes (after about 13 years of proving her wrong) that I will have a career in the world of science. It's not that she doesn't encourage me to learn foreign languages (she pays for my extra classes and is happy when I go to contests and win) but she still puts science on the first place, as though I am totally fine with studying something I hate till 1 a.m., sometimes. It eats me on the inside, but I am used to it. I am used to being obedient.

My life is boring. That's why I hate it, mostly. All I do is school, home, eat, sleep, repeat. I don't have time to do what I love, the way I want to. Of course, at least I have some Italian, French, fiction writing and English literature classes... Otherwise, I would have long been dead.

I just got out the school gates, after a long day of science classes. I call Mom at her work place and tell her I am on my way home. I say goodbye to Matthias, my best friend (we've been friends since middle school), and I head to the London Eye, taking a bus. I do that sometimes, ride the London Eye after school. It's relaxing. It helps me get my thoughts together. It helps me calm down.

When I get there, I patiently wait in line till a short girl hops out of an Eye, a concerned expression on her face. I get in, followed by a few amazed tourists and put my headphones on.

They search the subways and the streets
their faces tired, like their feet
their bodies aching to be warm
and so they hide behind the moon
their loneliness inside them growing
but they take comfort in just knowing
that they are special and apart
the lovers, the lovers of the heart... the lovers

And when love comes again
and when love comes
hello...
rises from their throats like singing
catches in their hearts like wind
the good things
strangers in their arms are bringing
makes life all right again.

"The lovers" by the Arctic Monkeys, my favorite band, came on shuffle. I look at this vivid metropolis and mesmerize at its beauty. Right now, some people are happy and some are sad. Some are fighting back tears and some are laughing whole-heartedly. Some are saying "I love you" for the thousandth time and some are saying it for the first. Some are dying. Some are born. All of it in this very moment.

When I get home, the sun is almost setting. My dog, Ben, greets me by jumping on me and in response, I squeeze him tightly and pet his head. Dad is in the kitchen. I see him open the fridge when he asks if I want to order some pizza. There was probably nothing in there.

'Yeah, do order some. All cheese for me.' I say. 'Mom's not home yet, is she?'

'No, she'll be late today. How was your day?'

'Scientific.'

This was sort of our code. When I said scientific, he'd know immediately it was full of the classes I hate.

'I am sorry, sweetheart. Pizza will cheer you up.'

I reply a quick "definitely" and head to my room.

I shut the door and hear Ben squeal behind it. I let him in, put some music and start changing in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a loose T-Shirt. 30 minutes later, Dad brings me my pizza.