Life, I Guess

6

As I brush my teeth in the morning, I realize I've been going through the motions once again without recognizing I'm doing them. Day after day I repeat the same morning routine. I look at my hair. It's down as usual, brushing my lower back. My makeup is the same. I'm wearing another band tee and another flannel.

Dull.

Overcome with an unusual burst of confidence, I bound up the stairs to my room and peer in my closet. Mom bought me a simple blue t-shirt dress last month, but I never even took the tags off before shoving it in the back of my hangers. I change into it and wear my white Converse.

Running back to the bathroom, I begin to French braid my hair down the middle. I grab my eyeliner pencil and flick my eyeliner up at the corners.

Today will be different.

I head out the door and begin my walk to school.

People didn't notice you before, and they won't notice you now.

As I walk in to first period, I smile at my teacher and take out my homework. The same old routine doesn't feel different despite my outward appearances.

If Devin didn't love me, I would show him what he would miss out on.

He doesn't love you. What are you doing? You look ridiculous.

I look down at myself. I don't look like Samantha. I am Samantha trapped in a body. I shouldn't have-

"Hey! You look different!" Will says as he walks in.

"Wow, nice braid, Sam," says Veronica as she slides into her seat. "Miss me yesterday?"

She was gone yesterday? I feel bad for not noticing. Can she notice that I didn't know she was absent?

"Of course. Class wasn't the same without you." I shrug. Hopefully she brushes it off, but I know the guilt will eat at me all day.

My phone lights up.

Devin <3:
Have fun

He's just softening the blow you'll receive later.

***

"You look nice," Devin says to me as he wraps his arms around my waist.

That's it?

"Thanks." I smile. I avoid eye contact.

The thing is, I usually avoid eye contact with most people. Sometimes I'll look Devin in the eyes, and I can notice his glance switch from my left to right eye. Focusing on that helps me realize eye contact is not as scary as I think it is. It's just so intense. "The eyes are the window to the soul" and my soul is collecting cobwebs and shaking in the corner of a dark room.

"Look at me, Sam," Devin pleads. I look up at him. "Are you okay?"

No no no no no.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I say a little to forcefully.

"Stop," Devin commands and my heart does as it's told.

You're making him upset. This is the end. He's going to break up with you. This was the final straw.

The world is getting cloudier. My heart feels like it isn't working. I picture my throat becoming tighter and air being trapped in my body.

Devin places his hands on my waist. "Calm down."

Yeah, Sam. Calm. Down. It's easy. What are you freaking out about? Doubt? Again? You're pathetic. Why is he with you?

"I- I just- I-" I stammer. "Sorry."

Instead of comforting me with hugs or telling me he understands, Devin responds, "It's fine."

I look down at my outfit. Why did I try so hard to be different on the outside when my insides can't change? Nothing makes sense.

"I want to go home," I whimper. I feel tears brimming my eyes. I accept defeat.

"That's the cheap way out. You can do it," Devin encourages.

He's right. I can do it. I don't want to.

The bell rings. As we hold hands, I squeeze tightly, and he hangs his head.

I can't focus on class. Life is so hard without having school thrown at me. I don't even care about the class, I care about the grade. When I can't get the grade I want, it's not about being introduced to a new subject or having the privilege of education, it's about failure. Not failing a class, but failing my only purpose as a student.

What about the ability to breathe and function as a teenager? What about the looming stress caused by school? What about anxious thoughts about how I compare to the other couple hundred students?

In the grand scheme of things I don't even matter. I'll live 80 or 90 years, but for what? I won't "leave my mark" on this world. I am a tiny speck on Earth's timeline. None of this matters. Even my all-consuming doubt doesn't matter.

You are nothing.

I snap out of my internal questioning, and reach for my phone to text Devin:
I hate everything and I need hugs

Devin <3:
I have to work on this assignment right now sweetie...lunch k?

I sigh, and my face feels hot. I rest my head in my hand.

Everyone else is reading their book, and you're here contemplating you're existence. Way to go.

I lean back in my chair and turn the page of my textbook. A black smudge appears on the white page as I turn it. My makeup! I turn around in my seat to grab my compact out of my backpack. I glance around the room to make sure so one will notice I'm using a mirror. I look at my reflection. My left winged eyeliner is gone, leaving a gray mess behind. Great.

I ask permission to use the restroom, and leave the room. I slowly walk down the hall, feeling inadequate. Why did I try to look so nice today?

Because you thought it would change you.

I push open the bathroom door, and let tears stream down my face. I open a stall and sit on the toilet.

What junior makes a fuss over ruined makeup. You could've laughed it off. You could've done what you always do every morning. This is entirely your fault.

The voice in my head is right, as usual. It boils down to me.