Outside the Lines (lashton)

(10) ~~

Do you remember when you were little, and you had the imagination to create anything your heart desired? Your moms red sweater wasn't a sweater to you. It was a cape, helping you soar to the rescue of those in trouble. Your neighbors trampoline wasn't a trampoline to you, it was the moons surface. You hopped around and pretended gravity didn't exist. You had the power to do anything you wanted, to be anything you wanted. The feeling was electrifying; it filled you up with happiness.

It wasn't always happy though; your mom never seemed to enjoy the sword battles you and your best friend partook in. But how could mom be upset? The metal spatulas made the prefect swords!

Nothing seemed to change as you grew up. The changes were small, no one would have noticed. Hell, you didn't notice.

It was just a distant feeling, a feeling that grew in strength each day. Maybe you were 14 when you sensed something wasn't right, you can't remember. How could you remember something you've never noticed before?

But there comes a day two years later with you laying on your bed when you wonder, 'Where did I go wrong?'

You try to pinpoint an exact moment because you need to know when everything changed. How did you not notice earlier? Where did you start to lose yourself along the way?

And you can't stop thinking. Your mind begins to force memories to resurface from your past. By now you're folded up on the corner of your bed, knees tightly held to your chest.

Minding your own business as you walk through the school to get to your classes. Hearing the occasional words slip from your peers mouth around you.
Chub.
Fatty.
Cow.
But you as well as your peers are only seven; they aren't old enough to understand that their verbal observations stung like venom. They never teased, nor bullied, but the whispered side comments never died. Not until you joined football, and began to shift into the ideal look of a 'normal' child as time passed.

Crying on your brothers bed at the age of eight, being held in his arms, while Mom and Dad tested seeing who can scream louder.

A week before your 13th birthday, working on your partner project during class, chatting to your best friend about the greatest song you've recently found. You explain the song with such passion and excitement, your hands creating gestures while your eyes sparkle brightly.
"Spaz," your classmate says to you, staring into your eyes, now shadowed in sadness.

Sitting in the cafeteria with your friends, eating lunch together at the age of 14, discussing their crushes.
"I don't have one," you tell them. "You never do. Have you ever crushed on a girl before?" they say. "Wait, you're not gay, are you?"
You immediately protest, telling them you haven't found the right girl just yet.
"We'll set you up with a nice girl then. Don't worry, we've got your back," they assure you.

But you never put too much thought into those memories. Your peer's outspoken whispers were no longer audible in the school halls, not since changing yourself to have a normal body like the rest of them. Mom and Dad's arguments didn't seem to disappear overnight, but they grew quieter as time ticked on. No one seemed to pick on you anymore as you began to hide your loud personality, keeping to yourself most of the time. Your friends forgot about that day at lunch. To them, it was just a conversation with no meaning to it.

In the end, everything worked out, right?

But there you are, the night of your 16th birthday, sobbing into your pillow as you observe every bad memory, pulling them apart at the seams, when you should be sleeping.

And nothing seems to be quite alright after that night.

I groan in pain, pulling myself from my thoughts and curl into myself. The plane for Mexico City just took off. Once we were in the air, a headache started to form and along with it came waves of nausea.