We Were Once Extraordinary

Somewhat

After The Event

Things are somewhat okay, I'm somewhat okay. It's Saturday morning and it seems to be somewhat okay. There is a sun, and a breeze and I'm doing something. What is that something? I have no idea.

I told myself I wanted to go outside, and I did. But I haven't done something this different in, I don't think I have, since, since The Event. But I tell myself I need to get over it, I need to move on with my life. Do something worth, worth...do something worth.... living? No, I need to do something worth...dying? That's even worse, I need to do something worth...something worth doing.

Something worth doing.

Not useless, not terrible, not important, not satisfying.

Something worth doing.

But what is worth doing? What is worth my useless time? What is worth anything? What is worth it? Life isn't worth it anymore, nothing is worth it. Some same futile routine. Same routine.

Be born. Be a kid. Go to school. Stress as a preteen. Enter middle school. Finish middle school. Be a teen. Enter high school. Graduate if you're lucky. Go to college if you are luckier. Get a job. Settle down. Raise kids if that is your thing. Watch them grow up. Become worthless. And die.

What is the point? What is the point? I can do whatever I want, I can do anything, but it won't stop the routine. The stupid routine that makes up this world. And words start to fill my brain. Flying and soaring with a beat, begging and begging to be written down. To be permanent. To be heard. To be real. To be remembered. 

But I don't, because inside I know what I want.

When all of this is over nobody will remember me. And that is fine. Then I will finally be free. When all memories of me have left the mind's of people, when the minuscule mark I made on the Earth disappears, then I will be free.

I hear a chime on my phone. But I don't bother to look at it. It is probably a group text with my new "friends". Some silly, stupid mundane thing that probably got them all hyped up. It's not like I don't like them, I do, I really do. It's just they aren't, they aren't as close to me as I would like them to be. They are there, always there, but they don't come any closer. I tried and I tried to become closer, try to fit in, but it seemed I was destined to be an outlier.

But then there is another chime. And another. And another. Soon it becomes a beat.

Ting

Ting

Ting

Ting

And then the phone starts ringing. The basic Samsung phone ringtone and that takes me by surprise. Nobody calls me. So I think nothing of it. I don't answer and let the ringtone keep going. But then, then it rings again. I roll off my bed and pick up the phone, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Why did you ignore my texts?"

I'm tempted to ask why he ignored me for six months, but instead, I go with a half lie. "I didn't feel like getting out of bed."

"Since when did you sleep in?" He asks not being able to help himself. Zan Phelps always the curious one. "The Robyn I knew always woke up at 6:30 in the morning no matter what."

"The Robyn you knew," I correct him. He doesn't know me anymore, he doesn't know me anymore. "I don't wake up early anymore. It takes to much energy staying awake."

"Oh." Is all he says, and the conversation becomes silent between us. But then he starts talking again. "Are you busy?"

"What?"