Golden slumbers fill your eyes.

Smiles awake you when you rise.

Sleep, pretty darling; do not cry,

And I will sing you a lullaby.

-The Beatles

I felt like I was in a cage, hiding away from the world. I felt cold, and I felt shunned. Things seem pretty bleak from a fifteen year-old’s perspective, especially through the eyes of an outcast. Nothing was right in the world back then, back when people were cruel and uncaring. I could see it in their eyes when they refused to look at me when they passed me in the hallway; those uncaring eyes screamed promises they’d made to their friends to keep me away.

I wasn’t any different from them, no matter how much everyone liked to think so. I felt like I was living in a world apart from them, a world where I could reach no one, and no one could reach me. In that world, I was a ghost. Maybe the effect of being underwater was applied. Looking sunwards at the sky, I held my breath, wishing that I could escape to a world above the ocean.

I just couldn’t do it.

On a good day, people would glance my way. I couldn’t always catch them directly, but they’d just take a quick look at me out of curiosity. Their eyes burnt holes in my back, and that I could feel.

“I don’t want to go to school,” I told my mother one day. And, in reply, she said:

“Everyone goes to school, honey. It isn’t as bad as you make it seem.”

Did she really know? Did she notice, did she care? As soon as I entered through those doors, I felt like I was choking on the stench of conformity. It stung my nostrils and made me want to cry. Every day, I had to hold in that feeling of discontentment and wait until I got home to let it pour out from my eyes. I was alone in Hell, and no one would lend me their hand to bring me back. No one would help.

One night, I felt like killing myself. I felt like giving up, trying to do something productive that might lessen the pain with emptiness. I had everything I needed already in the house, but when the time came to carry it out, I just couldn’t do it.

I was too scared to do anything. I couldn’t stay, but it was impossible to leave.

“Why don’t you ever get invited to parties?” Dad asked me once. “Why don’t you ever leave the house? You’re always cooked up in your bedroom. Ever feel like hanging out with your friends?”

He didn’t understand. I didn’t have any friends. I didn’t have anyone that would invite me to their house, let alone invite me to a party. Dad liked to think that he was looking out for my best interests, making sure that I was okay, but he never delved any deeper than merely scratching the surface of my problems. He didn’t want to get caught up in my own, personal issues when he had so much to do on his own.

I blamed him for it, too. I blamed him for not caring enough about his own child, not bothering to make sure that she was really alright. The bottom line was that he honestly didn’t give a damn about me, about how I felt. Neither of my parents were ever really there for me, so after a while, I gave up, too. They’d never understand me, and I could never forgive them for it.

My room was a safe house for me; nothing could touch me there. Music was my outlet, so for hours on end I would lay on my carpet, playing my parents’ old vinyls on an even older turntable. They were really into music when they were younger, too, so they had every great album from the sixties and seventies that they could get their hands on. Now, they were like robots; they functioned, they went to work, they came home, but they didn’t care about anything, anymore.

A long time ago, I took the turntable. They didn’t even notice.

One of my favorites from their collection was The Beatles’ album, Abbey Road. I never got sick of it, so I kept playing it and playing it. Whenever I felt like I was ready to give up, I just put it on. It was relaxing.

My room was the only place where I could be myself. No one was around, so no one could judge me. I didn’t have to explain anything there, and I felt that there, I had a good reason to be alone. That was comforting to me, feeling like I was doing something for a reason. I liked feeling like I belonged to a purpose.

Every day I got up for school, I got dressed in the same boring clothes I’d owned for years, and I survived to the best of my abilities. It was so hard, no one will ever truly know. Those hard feelings that welcomed me there with open arms will always be mine, and no one else’s. No one will ever understand.

;;;;;

“Would you mind getting out of the house for a bit?” Mom asked one night.

It was dark outside. It had to be at least eight o’clock at night when she said it. She’d busted into my room without a word beforehand, and told me I had to leave. God only knows why she’d need me out of the house, though there might not have been a reason at all. Maybe she just got sick of hearing The Beatles on repeat from her room across the hallway.

I didn’t ask why, though. I just stayed quiet, waiting for her to leave until I got up from my place on the floor, walked over to the turntable, and pressed the “off” button. The music was gone, and I was left in silence.

I walked downstairs. Dad wasn’t home; maybe he was still at work. He was usually on the couch in the living room, watching TV on the television box. I never disturbed him, since I didn’t talk much and I didn’t like television too much, but I did notice when he wasn’t there.

My shoes were waiting for me at the door. I couldn’t believe my mother told me to leave. I would have liked her better if she’d have just left me alone, rather than telling me that I wasn’t even allowed to be quiet, doing nothing in my room. I was intolerable, I guess. I was a loathsome excuse for a girl.

Outside, it was a little cold. Maybe it was fifty degrees, maybe a little cooler. I couldn’t tell exactly, but I knew that if I had to stay out here for a while, I’d need more than a hoodie.

Oh well, I thought to myself. Maybe that’s what she wants, for me to freeze to death out here. In that case, I’ll just stay.

There wasn’t much to do. There’s never much to do. All I could really do was sit down, stand up, or walk around.

At first, I sat. Then I stood. And then, with nothing left to do, I walked.

It was miserable out there that night. Terrible. It was dark, it was cold, it was empty. Just being out there made me feel worse.

There was sound that came from my right, the sound of a lot of people talking at once in a far away place. I turned to glance in that direction, looking for the sound. Sounded like it was a couple blocks away, maybe three or four. I’m not sure what possessed me to pursue that noise, but my legs seemed to have a mind of their own and began taking me down the road.

All the way there, I thought about how much I’d rather be anywhere else. I thought about how sore my voice must be from not using it in such a long time. There wasn’t much I said unless I absolutely had to. Silence was just another way of keeping a distance from everything; I didn’t like it, but the silence would always remain.

“What the hell, Martin?” I heard a voice shout. It was a girl.

“Aw, Lindsey, come on!” a male’s voice shouted back. “It was just a little kiss! Come on- don’t be like that!”

My feet stopped abruptly; I was afraid. What was going on? Who were these people? There were many more voices that mixed with those of the boy and girl, and before long, they were lost in a sea of swimming vocals. I couldn’t tell one sound from another. Everything just… molded.

Come on, Anna, I thought to myself in a small voice, please. You can’t go back home. Just go see. Just go see what it is.

That voice in my head is what made my feet start moving again, not my heart. My heart was screaming at me to turn around, no matter what Mom would say if I came back home. Tonight, my head was in control, and my heart was powerless.

As I turned around the corner, my heart sank down into the bottom of my stomach. I felt like dying. Everything was a blur; the bright lights, the familiar faces, the energy that radiated through my body as it transferred from them to me.

No one saw me, but I saw all of them. It was a party. Another one that I hadn’t known about, another one I hadn’t been invited to. Another night wasted.

There were quite a few people outside, though they all had jackets on. That’s what made me realize how cold I was starting to get. I shivered and looked on. A few of the outside faces, I recognized from school. Of course, I had no idea what any of their names were, nor what they did at parties, but everyone was smiling.

I wished I’d been invited right then.

My feet wouldn’t take me any further; even my mind had given up. Finally. I took a seat on the curb, and sighed. What would I do? I couldn’t stay here. I probably shouldn’t have even sat down, as I knew it would be a bad idea. I wasn’t allowed to be there. I had to go back home, no matter how terrible of a mood I found Mom in.

A sigh pried itself out of my lips. It let itself loose into the night, and a small cloud of warm breath materialized in the sky. It lasted only a moment before it disappeared into thin air, blowing away with time.

Wondering what I would do about my situation took up quite a sum of time. I couldn’t decide whether I should stay or leave. To be honest, I did want to stay, even though I wasn’t welcome. Just being around something like that made me feel like I was a part of something, like I belonged even a little bit. Belonging was something I always wished that I could do, that I could accomplish. Even if I fit in a little, it would be better than not at all. I was socially unaccepted. I was an outcast, and I hated it. Being near that party made me feel not so alone, even though I knew that it should make me feel the complete opposite.

But if I didn’t leave, I would be found out. People notice what doesn’t belong, and at this party, I most definitely did not belong.

My chest was aching. I felt like crying, I was so frustrated with myself. Why did I always have to do these things? I always found a way of making myself feel awkward and out of place. I felt like screaming: “Help me!” But I knew that no one would answer.

Things would always stay this way. Nothing could ever change.

I cupped my face in my hands and felt my eyes stinging. I had to leave. That was that, there was no other acceptable option.

I was crying. Goddamn it, I was miserable. I couldn’t even hold it in like I usually did. It just came out of no where and I let it take over me.

Suddenly, there was a voice.

“It’s kind of cold outside, you know.”

My heart stopped beating momentarily.

What?

“You must be freezing. It’s almost forty out.” The voice was a male’s; it was calm, but it was warm. “Here, take it.”

I didn’t know what this person was talking about, but I was shaking from crying so hard and my face was so red that it didn’t matter. I looked up to find a jacket in my face.

Without even thinking about how embarrassed I was, I took it. I pulled it on, still sobbing. This person, whoever it was, must have been pretty forgiving, because I’d probably stain the jacket with teardrops.

The boy sighed. “Mind if I sit next to you?”

When I didn’t reply, he took that as a “yes” and sat down next to me on the curb. Did he know who I was? Did he know that I was socially awkward? Did he realize what he was doing to himself by sitting beside me?

Obviously not.

But that was when I realized it: this boy was talking to me. He was sitting next to me, addressing me, hell, he even gave me his coat. Who was this boy?

“Have a rough night?” he asked. Soon after, my hiccups answered him.

“Sorry, dumb question.” A nervous chuckle followed. “I’m having sort of a bad night, too. This party was supposed to be really great, but I’ve yet to see anything different at this party than at any of the ones I went to last year.”

I was trying to stop the tears, but they just kept coming. I wanted them to stop so badly; not just for my sake, but for this boy’s, as well. No one deserved to listen to me cry, especially this boy. I wiped at my tears, trying to lessen them. They just wouldn’t stop.

“Hey,” he said again, “I know that I’m not really helping your situation. Hell, I don’t even know what your situation is, for God’s sake. But… Come on. I mean, whatever it is that’s wrong, it can’t be that bad.”

Again, I did not reply.

“Let me guess,” the boy spoke once again. “Your boyfriend just broke up with you? Don’t worry about it, I’m sure he was a prick.”

I took in a deep breath. What if I didn’t want to see him? What if I didn’t want to see his face? Somehow, I knew that if I were to see who I was talking to, I’d be too embarrassed to say anything. So I just took another breath and whispered:

“They ignore me.”

That quieted the boy down. He was, for the first time since I had heard him speaking to me, silent. What had I said wrong? I had given an answer; perhaps it wasn’t the one he wanted to hear. Perhaps it wasn’t good enough.

He recovered from his silence.

“Who?”

I bit my lip and buried my head deeper.

“Everyone.”

My sobs were quieter now. I couldn’t believe I’d just said that, that I’d told him. I was so ignorant. Why had I given in so quickly to this person whom I had never met before tonight? How could I ever be so trusting of anyone?

“Listen,” he said. His voice was now serious. I couldn’t believe the seriousness that had suddenly taken his tone. “Don’t say that. I’m not everyone, am I? I’m not ignoring you, am I?”

I huffed. “Who are you?”

“Joshua Duvalt. Who are you?”

Why was this even happening? How was it happening? My tongue was tripping itself to get the words out, since no one had asked me my name in the longest time.

“Anna Pooler.”

There was a feeling that I used to know as if it were my best friend. It had stuck beside me for years, reminding me of my loneliness. The feeling was one of being suspended underwater, looking skywards toward the sun through the ripples. My breath was running out, and I would drown if there wasn’t anyone to help pull me out.

As soon as I told Joshua Duvalt my name, a weight was lifted from my shoulders. And as soon as I felt that emptiness beginning to leave, he stood up.

“Come on,” Joshua said.

I looked up, and there, I found a pair of big brown eyes just waiting for me to take them.

He held out his hand to lift me out of the water.

And I took it.