It's strange how many people see the world from only one perspective. I always thought the world was too complex to see through only two eyes. Many people who feel lonely or lost do something about it; escaping from the constant spiral down. I never saw things this way. I never saw the things the way they were or how they may be. Only how they were viewed as now. Watching is also a thing that can be done in many different ways. I couldn't call it trespassing on others lives as some people may say. More like observing the world with more than one perspective and one opinion.
Nobody notices a girl like me. Someone who is visible yet unseen, lurking in the shadows. Maybe that's why I see so much that nobody else does. They just don't look with their brain. Maybe if they had used their eyes properly they would see a girl holding a copy of the Great Gatsby in the corner, after each paragraph pushing her black rimmed glasses out of her eyes. Or they might see the teacher who is scrambling around to collect the papers she has scattered across the corridor floor. Even if they did they wouldn't help. They don't look at things like I do.
Across the hallway I could see a teenage boy around the age of 16, his hair was light brown and feathery straight. He struggled to get through the corridor, pushing past all the inadequately dressed girls who were discussing their new boyfriends. Many of them shouted rue remarks at him, unfair names and slang offences, however, he tried his best to ignore them, increasing the volume of his headphones to the top bar. As he entered my next class I saw the other students give him a foul look but he ignored them yet again, taking a seat at one of the back desks. I at the desk just to the side of him, observing how he lined each of his books up against the wooden table edge careful not to drop any in the process.
As the teacher droned on about the cold war he lifted a photo of another boy from his bag, setting it down under the edge of his history notes out of sight. Nobody else sees except me. Nobody was watching. Nobody cared. I thought about how depressed he had been since Darren left, alone. Bullied by the others who abused him. Nothing yet everything had changed. He was no longer protected and no longer had something to live or.
When the school bell rang for the end of lessons, he tried his hardest to collect his belongings and leave the room before they got here but he was too slow. I could hear his heavy breathing as he was shoved into the lockers and repeatedly kicked. He did nothing. Other students did nothing. When the corridor was mostly cleared, I stayed to watch him attempt to get up, the pain in his ribs clearly agonizing. He lifted his shoulder bag swinging it over his arm flinching as it brushed against the deep red slices that littered his dainty arms. Nobody knew; nobody saw.
When he arrived in the canteen he became hidden once more, ignored like he was worth nothing and is now lost. Sitting at a lone table he picked at the packed lunch his aunt had made. Attempting to force himself to eat the small amount of food. Even when he knew someone has made it especially for him it didn't sway his mood, making him long for somebody who cared just once. Maybe if everyone else was watching they would have seen the smile on his face as the photograph is his book fell out. He studied it carefully. One girl approached him to ask about the picture. He studied her carefully observing the way her brown curly hair fell over her shoulders.
"Who's that?" She asked, pushing a stray bit of her hair behind her ear.
"Nobody," he as quick to reply, pushing the picture into his top pocket and out of view.
"Well, he sounds sweet." She complimented causing a blush to spread across his cheeks. I watched as he chatted o him more, ignoring the dirty and comments being aimed towards his table.
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Later that day, he was walking along the dishevelled street towards his aunt's house dragging his feet across the paving slabs. Every few minutes he stopped to adjust the heavy rucksack on his shoulder which was clearly hurting him after his encounter with the jocks at lunchtime. He is still alone, nobody has the decency to go up and offer some help. Some of you may ask why he wasn't getting lift off one of his parents. The tragic truth was that both his parents had died in a car crash the year before. Leaving him to fend for himself which no one but his aunt to look after him. She however as always out trying to gain enough money to pay for the rent on the apartment.
I always thought of how unfair it was that he was left alone, nobody who would look after him. He was so broken and shattered that even a ton of glue wouldn't be able to pull his life back together. Anyone who tried would only get cut on the pieces. It was time someone took that chance to make it better. There was always someone out there who cared, watching his time come to an end. He always thought now his parent are gone that he was alone. Alone to deal with the bullying and tormenting that he was faced with. And it made me cry. How wrong he was.
