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Another Day:
That’s how my story begins. With another day… much like every day of my life.
I sat at the edge of the roof of the high flat that is far from my up town rich house. My art and music sits next to me, held down by the weight of my hand flat over it gripping the brickwork of the roof. The edges of the papers flapping in the wind much like wings of a bird caught in the grasps of human hands. Flapping and scratching wanting to break free and fly. My fringe is in my eyes covering my vision, like the paper straining under my fingertips.
This is the ending of my days sitting high in the sky, wishing for the courage to push my self over and die.
-Rewind to days repeated break-
I wake up to the screeching of my mother, “Tristin… TRISTIN…” the voice of my mother rips through my head causing my body to start rolling away from the voice only to be caught with air falling away from my lovely bed – how I wish to just sleep for eternity, never to wake to the living. Nope, nothing different today. Dressed in black drainpipe jeans, black and red checkers slip on vans, Simple-plan t-shirt and a plain black hoody. I left my hair to its own devices, the back being rugged and shaggy with a red tipped black fringe covering my left eye.
I chewed my lip ring as I fastened the studded belt around my waist. I was almost ready to face the repetitive day of being… invisible. Even invisible to my parents. They work for a secret place on a secret experiment. They won’t even tell their only disgrace of a son what they work as. With my sketchbook and notebook I was finally ready to face yet another day of blending into the surroundings…
* * * * * * * * * * *
My name is Tristin Seeth. I’m seventeen. My life is my art, my music and the hope that one day soon I will pluck up the courage to slide off the building… or the gently dwindling hope to speak out and be noticed (and be loved).
The walk to school is silent but I’m always silent unless I’m singing, for I have a slight speech impediment. I get asked no questions in school by teachers and am not noticed in the back of the class by pupils.
Again I state this is the day of my life that repeats itself day after day after day.
* * *
I traced the familiar footsteps from every day. My feet moved with no hesitation to their daily rhythm without much help from my mind. This freed up my thoughts to think how damn monochrome my day would be. Would I get the courage (just that little bit) I would need at the end off today to slip of that ever familiar ledge and fall, fall into the abyss of death. I flicked my hair out of my eyes, where it always seemed to sit, and put my earphones in. The music screamed into my head, how I liked it, blocking the world’s noises out and my thoughts and music in.
The school is the main event of the day. The gossip and such you hear in such a small place is ever changing, the rumours that flow through such have in places like these. No one knows me in this school, no one ever knew me. I am like the spider in the corner waiting just to be squashed under a big foot alone all alone… Is that a spider’s suicide letting them being stood on?
My feet began to scuff as I got closer and closer to the school my eyes down at my vans as the –scuff- dirt –scuff- was –scuff- kicked –scuff- up –scuff- around –scuff- my –scuff- feet. Slowing down slightly as the gate reached my sides the off-white building seems to tower over you like a jail. Do they build schools intending to scare you?
Girls were huddled near the footballers giggling and whispering. The jocks were gloating and smirking, knowing they were fawning over them. Ignored as my slow paced self-walked past, hearing the high-pitched giggles from the girls and sniggers from the boys. Their egos need no more boosting! Yet it’s heightened more and more every day with every dumb-a** wannabe gazing at them like they were heroes. Continuing - on the distance that seemed to drag on forever - to the prison people in this world call school. Again all I am is the invisible, unnoticed, uncared for and unwanted teen outcast.
I reached the tall building with its greying walls and criss cross bars on the windows to ‘prevent’ the windows from being smashed. As the door swings back into the closed position the bell rings like a warning alarm to the no eventful time about to come. Not bothering to speed up my pace towards the classroom door the music still blaring into my ears. Pushed and shoved as my footstep falls in the door way dishevelled and unnoticed as my body entered the classroom to move to the back right hand corner away from everyone else in the class.
Whispers and hyperactivity ran through the class – that’s unusual – the class is normal dead and quiet half asleep from waking up to early hung over from there eventful weekend of drinking and partying. Jumping up and down unable to sit still, talking from one person to another, excitement evident in each and every person in the room excluding myself and the teacher of course. Unable to hear what they talked about with the music now turned down and head down on desk bored already with the class.
Knock, knock… with the slight raise of my head I see a girl standing up front with long black hair bright laughing blue eyes her skirt to half way down her thigh’s high converses and fishnets on, top un-tucked and tie loose around her neck.
- by DarkMouseGaze |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 07/18/2008 |
- Skip
![](https://graphics.gaiaonline.com/images/arena-images/ic_paper_corner_32x32.gif)
- Title: Another Day
- Artist: DarkMouseGaze
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Description:
A story i have been working on around one boy who is unloved, uncared for, unwanted, and invisible to everyone... This are going to change... Aren't they?
I mean No offense to people within this story
Im not sure of the future of this story =/
comment and critisise Please i shall take all on board =]
X - Date: 07/18/2008
- Tags: suicide friends unloved hate depression
- Report Post
Comments (2 Comments)
- peachwhimzy - 07/20/2008
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I thought this was really good, I like your writing style!
Rate mine? I just put it up. http://www.gaiaonline.com/arena/writing/fiction/vote/?entry_id=100010010 - Report As Spam
- BlackIris29 - 07/20/2008
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I like it, you have some really awsome descriptive stuff smile
Although it's a bit depressing, it really paints a picture of how he feels.
Just watch your grammar as well smile - Report As Spam