“You have people come into your life shockingly and surprisingly. You have losses that you never thought you'd experience. You have rejection and you have learn how to deal with that and how to get up the next day and go on with it. ”

-Taylor Swift

They say if you stare at an abyss, it will stare back at you. That is what I feel when I look at my eyes in the mirror. My dark pool of chocolate eyes have no variation. It’s just boring brown. From a distance, it even looks black. I grimace glancing at them.

I am watching a YouTube tutorial on makeup. I apply eyeliner. It doesn't turn out how I want it to be. I give up.

Mom is always trying to make me look girlier and prettier. She gets me all my makeup stuff and dresses that I never wear.

It is not like I can’t do makeup or I don’t want to look pretty. Looking pretty takes effort. I just don’t have that. Being lazy and looking like a homeless person is easier. Most days, it just depends on my mood, which is a scary thing.

I turn off my phone and throw it in my bed. I look at the books that I read, all done. Looking at the new books that I bought today, I am not interested. Books don’t make me feel like they used to. When I have spiral days, I dry up. Nothing can make me feel. I feel absolutely no emotion, excitement, happiness, sadness, anger, or anything. I am in a draught of feelings.

I look at the pile of homework I have, I need to finish. But if I go that way, I will get frustrated.

I have tried social media to make me feel like I am here, present in this world. It only made things worse. I have tried painting. I am not really good at it.

The house is empty. Mom and dad are still out, I don’t know when they will be back.

I open my laptop, I open a word document. It stares back at me. I should do my English assignment. Instead, I start to type.

The words that come out are of agony. They are not organized. My thoughts are all over the place. I see them taking the shape of something I never knew I was capable of. I am writing about someone who has lodged up feelings in their throat, who is scared, who is in pain. It all sounds so emotional and cliche, I laugh. But at least, it is making me feel something, like I am emptying myself, like I am letting it out in a way.

And I keep typing. When I finally look at the clock, one hour has passed.

I think I have found that ‘something’ Oliver talked about. I call him before I can think about it.

“Hello,” Oliver answers.

“It’s Gwen. I found it!” I say, sounding elated.

“Umm, what did you find?” Oliver asks. For once, he does not sound annoyed.

“I found something to do,” I answer, “I am writing.”

“Hmm, okay,” Oliver says, “Have you just started?”

“Yes, I have written a chapter, and I kind of like how it turned out. I am not really sure. But it feels great,” I answer.

“Good for you, ” Oliver replies.

“I guess,” I say. Then I have nothing to say.

“So, umm,” Oliver stutters, “Keep writing.”

“Yeah,” I reply. “Thank you and good night.”

I think Oliver won’t reply. But he does.

“You are welcome although I don’t know why you thanked me. Good night,” Oliver hangs up the phone.

The next day, I am sitting with Oliver at lunchtime.

“It’s not working,” I say to Oliver, “It’s really really boring. It turns out if the girl character is me, she has nothing to do and the story ends up being really bland.”

“Why does the girl have to be you?” Oliver asks while reading this small book. I can’t see the title because he has wrapped it up in brown paper. I think it is the book he bought yesterday.

“She can be anyone. She can be a superhero, she can be a criminal, she can be a ghost, anything.”

“Hmm,” Oliver has more ideas than me but I have other ideas too, “But I want to write about how I feel.”

“Then write about it. You have the freedom,” Oliver shrugs, still reading his book. Oliver wasn’t completely wrong. I want his attention and he isn’t giving me any.

“What is the book that you are reading?” it turns out he always has more interesting things to do other than hanging out with me. Today, it’s a book. Today, Jason is absent.

“Hmm, some book I am reading,” He says as he takes a sip of his coke and turns a page.

I pout, “Is this a smut book?”

The corner of Oliver’s lip curls. This is as close as I will see him smile, “You are really bad at guessing.”

“For all I know, you covered the front page,” I reason.

“It is an expensive book. I don’t want to ruin the cover page,” Oliver says.

“What is it?” I lean towards him. He leans back, “Did you buy it yesterday?”

“Yup, and it’s nothing of your interest,” Oliver replies, “Let me read.”

“How do you know? Also, I am sitting here alone. I need your attention,” I am a lonely girl with no dignity at all.

Oliver sighs, closes the book and turns to me, “You have my attention.”

“Thank you,” I say and that is all I say. Oliver is looking at me. I am the focal point of his attention. I am feeling nervous.

My throat dries up. My brain is empty. I have nothing to talk about. I need to talk about something. I blink. I am frozen.

You are stupid.

You are an idiot.

You are so boring.

The word echoes in my brain, over and over, over and over. I am sweating. I don’t have any topic to talk about. Why doesn’t Oliver say something? I gulp.

“Well?” Oliver says, “I thought you wanted to talk about something. What is it?”

Usually, I am around people who talk a lot. Sean, Doughty, Jolene, Jason, all of them, talk a lot. I don’t have to carry any conversation. I only have to reply. I don’t have to start any conversation.

Now, I am at the other end. I feel like I’m under this big pressure and I can’t talk. I can’t pick up an interesting topic that will intrigue him.

Her words echo in my brain.

You are such a stupid.

You are boring.

You are boring.

I guess she helped me out by saying that to my face. I will never forget that. I had people telling me things. I call them tagline. I have taglines from each and every single of my ‘friends’.

You are boring.

You and your need to feel special.

You always think you are pathetic and that’s your fault.

Why do you always have to go first in everything?

You can be a little less self-centered, can’t you?

People have work, Gwen. Their lives don’t revolve around you.

I blink and I feel tears in my eyes. I get alarmed and I look at Oliver. He has his face hidden in his book. I get it, I have made him uncomfortable. Oh hell, ways to make friends.

“Sorry,” I say and stand up from the chair. I head for the washroom where I won’t make anyone uncomfortable.

****

I sit at the dining table, poking my food, listening to Mom, “Look at that photo!”

Mom is stalking through Sam’s Instagram account. I am avoiding looking at it. What my older brother does now, is none of my business. I used to stalk him too, to know how he is doing, as he has stopped telling me himself.

Sam was the most attentive person. He never made me feel out of place. He was always there to listen to my problems, to give me advice. Nowadays he is too busy to even call.

“This is surely that girl,” Mom says and shows Dad whatever photo it is.

I gulp down the food, also my curiosity to know which girl they are talking about.

Mom turns to me, “Take a look!"

I oblige grumbling. There is a girl tucked underneath my brother’s arm. She is his age, I guess. His girl, that’s what the post’s caption says.

“Bailey, that’s her name,” Mom says scrolling down and tapping on Bailey’s account. Now Mom is stalking her.

I finish the rest of my food, wash my plate and head upstairs, to get away from the whole situation.

Too bad, my brother was kind of my best friend once. I open Instagram and take a look at him. He has the same black hair as me. His hair is combed back, giving him a polite, nice guy vibe. The ID around his neck is the card from his college. He is smiling at the camera with the girl tucked on his side. Bailey.

My brother never wanted to be cool. He doesn’t bother with it. He can smile, showing all his teeth, at a camera and take a photo like a school going kid. That is how humble and nice my brother is. And that doesn’t matter to his friends either. They are all like him, smart, nice, uncool, polite. They know what they are doing with their life. Unlike me.

My brother was a music geek from his childhood. He wanted to study music as well. He never bothered with anything else. He used to have this little band called ‘Icarus’ while he was in high school. Later, he and his three friends, Tori, Yuen, and Xylan all went to Berkeley together. Now they study music and sound engineering. They are living their dreams.

I stalk Bailey’s profile and it turns out she is perfect for my brother. Bailey looks like a nice girl. Her posts are about her projects and participation in competitions, symposiums. In some photos, she is giving a speech, in some she is smiling with her friends in a restaurant. A simple, nice girl with a picture-perfect life. She is really beautiful as well.

My brother’s life is set. Mom is happy, Dad is happy. Everyone is happy.

I turn off my phone and stretch my back on my bed. I feel the clouds taking control of me. Taking my body to oblivion, turning down all the sounds around me.

I wish Sam called. I wish I swallowed my pride and called him myself. The conversation would have gone like this,

“Hey Sam, how’re you doing?”

“I’m great! How’re you, little G?”

“I- I am not okay, Sam. I don’t know what is happening to me.”

“Wait, I’ll be there.”

Sam will hang up. Then he will get tickets and fly home to check up on me. That is how amazing Sam is. He won’t think twice before doing so.

And I can’t lie to my brother. I won’t be able to say, I’m fine. My days are great. Just like I tell my parents.

So, maybe I should be grateful he doesn’t call. I should be. I swallow the pain in my throat and get ready to sleep, hoping whatever that is wrong with me isn’t even an issue and it will go away soon. I will be fine. I will.

*****

I am at my worst when I wake up. My chest feels heavy, my limbs feel heavier. I take a deep breath.

I am strong. I remind myself.

But I still panic. Because I don’t know how long these spiral days are going to last. I can’t tell why it isn’t ending. I should feel better by now. It has been quite a few days.

The fear claws me up on the inside. What if I never feel happy again? What if I can’t go back to normal? I can’t be stuck like this. I shake my head. I can’t. I can’t. I need to feel something. I will even cry now, if that’s possible.

I scream in my pillow in agony. I feel like clawing my face, thinking it would make me feel. Anything, I will take anything.

“Gwen! You’re gonna get late!” Mom shouts from downstairs.

I stop, alert at the sound of my mom speaking. I try to calm my breathing. I will have to go out, survive a day in school, and come back to my emptiness, till then I will have to hold myself together. I will have to.

I face myself in the mirror, stare at my reflection and say, “Gwen, you remember how it was, how it is. Don’t trip, don’t fall. There is no one to help you up.”

I get ready for school. I have my breakfast in silence. Mom and Dad discuss their business and don’t really see me moping. I am invisible in my own house.

Times like this, I really miss Sam.

I bike to school. I walk in the hallway towards my locker. And I get lost in myself. I bump into someone, face first.

A great day to bump into a great person. My ex, Dean.

We pretend we never knew each other. I step aside and he does too. Then I step the other way and he tries to get away. But it gets awkward and we bump hard into each other's shoulder.

When I am finally away from him, the anger reaches me. The anger, the betrayal, the hurt.

I stop myself before bumping into someone else. I look up and this time it is Oliver.

I was not planning to see him today.

Oliver narrows his eyes and stares at me. I stare right back. “What, do I have something in my face?”

Oliver acts like himself giving me no reply. I shove him in the shoulder and try to walk away but in the last second, Oliver gets hold of my sleeve.

“Jason got the flu,” Oliver says, “So he is going to be absent today too.”

“What am I supposed to do about it?” I snap.

“Thought you’d want to know,” Oliver replies.

“Why would I want to know? I am no one,” I reply.

“Because you are his friend,” Oliver says.

I snort. “Really?”

“He says so,” Oliver says.

I shake his hands away from me and cross them over my chest, “Tell him, I hope he gets well soon. I miss him.”

I say softly and turn around. Oliver falls in step with me. I don’t know why.

“I will sit outside today at lunch,” Oliver says.

“So?” I ask.

I have English first period with Mr. Stuart and Oliver doesn’t have the same class. So before he goes his way, he stops and says to me, “Don’t make it hard for me, Gwen.”

I laugh. He amuses me.

“I wouldn’t dare,” I say.

Oliver’s gazes drills into mine. He holds the stare for a few seconds. Then he nods and walks away.

*****

heartbreaksweather1D