You all think you know me
Every facette, inside out
I’m sorry to disappoint you
But the truth is
You don’t know me
And you never will

1 ----- So, this is me?

Silver shimmers in the light of the lamp sent by the pen which lays on an accurate written essay. Accurate except for the black spots of ink covering the pages at one point. A certain B or even an A ruined by one foolish action. Staring down on my desk, I bite my underlip. If I was giving in to my current emotions I would start screaming, crying, throwing things around or whatever else fits to such a frustrated mood. Instead I keep silent and move my gaze over towards the window. It’s deep night already, not a single light burns in the houses within our near neighbourhood. If I was the only one still awake in the whole street, it wouldn’t surprise me. I’m an exception in many points, so many that I sometimes doubt if I’m really a normal girl. Throughout all the years I’ve always been different from others, not directly on the outside but inside. People say it’s good to be different but those who say that certainly don’t know the pain and sorrows you have to go through before reaching a single goal in your life. Given the fact that you can even achieve that goal. And exactly that is my problem. Another frustrated sigh and I lean back, staring at the shadowed ceiling. I don’t seem to have achieved a single thing after I received my senior high degree. Since then I’ve been struggling, trying to figure out who I really am and what I really want. But everything I tried out ended in the wrong street, the wrong way to the future. And thus the process of start and stop before I went even half through a certain thing never ended. It might have even gotten worse. While all people around me seemed to have found their ideal future self I was still stuck in my old girlish attitude, never really leaving it. The chair nearly falls on the floor when I stand up abruptly and start to pace through my room. Still at home. How long will I live with my parents after all? It cannot be like that forever. And my independence wants me to break free as soon as I’ve found my future perspective. But I know myself way too well as to think that it might happen anytime soon. Since I’m not the easy-going and cheerful person many people expect me to be. I ever wondered why they just recognized my outside, the mask I wore as my true self. They never bothered to look inside of me. I stop, slowly turning towards the mirror. The reflection shows a young girl, no, a young woman at the very beginning of her twenties with deep red hair at shoulder length and piercing green eyes, wearing pyjama trousers which are too big for her figure, a short top and long socks. Normal height, normal figure. Who is this girl staring back at me anyways?
“That is me, Miracle Miraton. Aged 20 and still without a real future to look forward to.”
A long moment of silence follows, a moment in which all possible thoughts drift through my mind. They keep reappearing all the time, I can never break free of them completely. Not even when I know that I’m allowed to relax and push away all negative things. I throw a last look at my reflection and stick out my tongue as if I wanted to tell myself what a loser I am. One step back and I drop onto my bed, remaining moveless. Life is truely like hell, maybe that’s the reason why I’m no longer afraid of death. Because I’m convinced that it cannot be any worser than it is now.
“Take it, girl. You quit college after only half a year and started a training which you grew to hate. Your future is destinied to be hell itself.”
Once again silence occupies my room. Life might be senseless but it wasn’t completely hopeless. If I tried and started over again I would be able to find the joy I’m longing for. If luck crosses my path one day. But somehow I doubt that this will ever happen. I close my eyes in disappointment. The optimistic nature of my youth has been exchanged with a more than pessimistic one. No one of my friends from elementary school would believe that I’m really the girl they used to know. I’ve changed so drasticly, a change which first came slowly and then abrupt. Grabbing a pillow, I hold it over my face as if I was trying to hide from the world.
“Damn, that cannot be me. It cannot, it must be a huge mistake.”
The sound of my fave song, Claustrophobia by Luna Sea, breaks the dark mood. Pushing the pillow aside a bit I see the pendant of my phonestrap blinking. No one uses to call me at such a time. It’s even nearly a miracle if someone else called me except for my parents or closest friends. Of which I don’t have many but the friends I have are more than precious to me. Even though I’m the same cool girl towards them. In fact, they don’t know my true self either but they can guess it. At least, I think some effort I get up and grab the cellphone. The newest i-mode version available on the market, I make sure to keep pace with the latest trends to be at least a bit normal.
“Miracle speaking.”
My voice is cool and controlled as always. I'm a true master of hiding my emotions after all. It’s necessary to survive in this heartless world. Otherwise you’ll be drowning one day. But just a few words nearly let this seemingly perfect mask split into pieces.
"Mira, I need to talk to you. It's me. Troy."
"Troy?"

I started to write Claustrophobia in 2002. After two chapters I gave up on the story and now, four years later, I'm actually continuing and even finishing it. It's been so long since I last finished writing an entire series. But this story deserves it, it holds some special memories after all. And in case someone is wondering about the essay thing, in Germany a training (in this case meaning that you're in a company or something alike to learn a certain job) also requires you to attend vocational school and those have classes like in high school only specified on the job you're learning. Meaning you have to do homework as well, just like this essay.