You know the feeling when your having a dream, and you think you've woken up, but then something worse happens, and you realize you didn't wake up? The terrible, hopeless, loneliness feeling? Imagine that in reality. You try to brake away, but you can't. Every night, you dream this better world, but then you wake up to hell. We all go through it. It's simply called life. We can never escape this price, however, we forget the balance this precious world holds. Even I, have forgotten about this balance. The amount of bad in you life, will be replace by good. The amount of good, the same amount of bad. But, alas, there is a catch to the scale. Just because you have a happy childhood, doesn't mean one day, your world will suddenly crash. It means that you will meet struggles, but ones you can handle. And those, who've met hell's fury, they will know happiness, and they will be the ones who how to truly hold the precious gem. For I know, I have witnessed this precious miracle. Ah, don't be so quick witted lassie. I just begun my tale. My scale of happiness, might be your worst nightmare, or it could be someone's happiness. Now that I gave you this moral, I will begin my tale. Sit down lad! Where do ye' think your going? That's right. Sit down. Thank you. Now, let my tale begin.
"Andrea! There you are! Dude, where were you this morning?"
I looked over my shoulder and saw a full head of curly hair bouncing towards me. I smiled sheepishly, knowing my secret was caught.
"Ah, I see. That's ok, you don't have to explain it." my friend laughed. Her caramel eyelids were covered with sparkly eye shadow, outlined with purple eye lines. I raised an eyebrow. "Nice out fit Tiffany. You remind me of a mouse."
Tiffany looked down at her puffy skirt, and her Puma tennis shoes. "Ha, funny. Well today you look like fairy princess."
Rolling my eyes, scrolled my locker combination. "Right, with my baggy T-shirt, holes in my jeans, and my little ball-," I suddenly looked at my ballet shoes and twisted them around. ",well no, I like my shoes." I finished with a laugh. "Was Mrs. Camprell mad at me for not being there this morning?"
Tiffany leaned on the next locker and yawed. "No not really. But the next time you decide to ditch me to a crazy librarian, warn me."
I rolled my eyes at Tiffany's dramatic speech. "Oh please. She's not so bad."
Tiffany scoffed. "Yea, says you. You know what she did today in the library? God Andrea, she was dancing!"
I laughed again. I knew Tiffany was telling the truth. Every morning, before school, we would help our librarian, Mrs. Camprell. She was pretty crazy, but that's why we love her so much. "You know you love her."
"She's lucky I do."
As I took some books from my locker into my back pack, I heard Tiff scoff again. "Now what?" I didn't even bother to look.
"Zoey is such a whore!"
I looked over my shoulder, and sure enough, there was Zoey Highmen making out a with soccer dude. "What else is new? This is high school. You know what God said. ' And let there be whores.'"
Tiffany looked at me blankly.
"It's a joke Tiff. Chill."
"I know, but still. It's disgusting."
I swung my backpack over my shoulder and closed my locker with a hard slam. No, I didn't have mercy with them. Poor things. "Come on Tiff."
Walking by a couple who is busy making out isn't very comfortable. First off, you always feel lonely, a loser, disgusted, or embarrassed. But it gets worse when they stop and one of them shouts. "Hey, look its the fairy girl. Did you dance with them last night?" Yea, it stings. The burning feeling scorches up to my cheeks, leaving me the feeling that someone torn off my wings. "Just ignore them Andrea." Tiffany whispered in my ear. Unfortunately, my foster parents believed it would be a good that my teachers knew about my disorder, and like I said, this is high school, and we all know how news spreads. I heard Zoey laugh behind me " Hush Nick, or she'll send them after you." I hate being around people. I have no friends through out this entire school, nobody would talk to me, except Tiffany. She said she loved me having schizophrenia. "How cool is that?" she told me when she found out. Thankfully, we're seniors, letting us have this last year. One more semester of hell, then I would brake away from the world all together. Tiffany and I walked to first period together, but unfortunately, the only class we had together. The rest of the day would blend with my other memories. I didn't really pay attention to my teachers. I would always stare out the window and dream. I couldn't help, and I doubt I ever will. It's who I am. Many people say this is my problem, I don't stay in reality. My foster parents tried banning me from books, from writing, but they could never banned dreaming. How could they? They can't ban me from what I see. Lunch was lonely, and a class I didn't need. I didn't eat lunch, and instead I would hang out in the library. My favorite spot was a corner by a stain glass window. Every lunch period and I would snuggled tightly in the little corner and read till I heard the bell ring. It was my time out for the day. Mrs. Camprell knew I wasn't allowed anything that wasn't nonfiction, but she was a kind spirited woman, who let me read anything my heart desired.
At the end of the day, when school was let out, students would rush past me, excited to go do sports, clubs, or go home. Not me. If anything I hated worse then school, was my physiatrist, Dr. Dawson. That man drove me nuts. He was always asking me question like " Why do you think you can see these, creatures?" or " Are you upset that you do?"
I groaned as I walked outside. It was raining. Just my luck. I didn't have enough money yet for a car, so I was stuck with my bike. Not that I minded much. I love my bike, it gets me everywhere. Living in a small town, can really work for your advantage. It doesn't take long to get from one place to the next. As I saw my physiatrist's building, I immediate felt annoyed. I locked my bike on some random pole, because their was no place for my bike and walked inside. To be the truth, the place didn't look bad. Everything was wood, like a cabin, with deer antlers over every doorway. Naturally in the waiting room, he had those cheesy magazines like "Health", of "Parent Guiding". I didn't bother to sit down. He had crappy chairs anyway. Instead I stood, letting my soak hair dripping down my neck, leaving wet streaks on my hoodie.
"Andrea?" a voice called out from a room.
"And here we go again." I murmured underneath my breathe. I walked down the lonely hallway into the familiar bright room. It was pretty simple like the rest of the office. It had the usual couches where you lie on them, but this one was comfy and it faced a window, so I don't mind lying on it. He also had several painting hanging on his wall, surrounding the room, until his desk.
"Hello Andrea. How was school today?" For a psychiatrist, he was pretty young. I think he was in his thirties. His sandy hair and light green eyes always gave the look for "mature". I think English tea cup boy.
"Ok, Dr. Dawson."
"You've been taking your medicine, correct?" he walked to his desk and pulled out a mint. "Want one?"
I shook my head no. "No thank you. And yes I have been. Twice a day."
"Good, and you've been staying away from books?" Dr. Dawson asked me. I cringed. I hate it when people are talking to me while eating hard candy. I hate the sound of it scraping his teeth, or him slurping his saliva. "Yep."
I laid on the green couch listening the scratching sounds of his candy and the pen as he wrote notes.
"Do you enjoy school?" Same question; same answer.
"It's alright." More scribble sounds.
" Andrea tell me the truth, are you still seeing things?"
"No." I didn't hesitate to lie.
"Andrea, darling, it's not normal for people to see things. That's not normal. But I'm trying to help you, but you need to cooperate." That one stung. No matter how many times, some one call abnormal, every time, it hurts.
"You don't know how I feel." I whispered.
"I can try if you share with how you feel. I'm telling you this for your own good Andrea. If we don't get this settled down now, you won't be able to get a job. It's on your records. People don't want to hire a crazy person."
I sat up. "Ok, Dr. Dawson, no offense, but I don't care. And they only think I'm crazy because people like you, tell other people that I'm crazy. What makes you think your right?!"
Dr. Dawson was about to say something, but I cut him off again. "No. Dr. Dawson, have you ever sat down in the woods and listen? Have you? How can you judge me, when you refuse to leave your world, to look at mine?"
Dawson sighed and leaned back in his chair. " Ok, Andrea. Let's switch it up. Show me your world."
I shook my head. " No."
"Andrea," he warned. " Your foster parents pay plenty of money to see your health care." I sat in silence looking out the window. I didn't want people to know my world. I didn't want them to destroy it. It's my sanctuary, where no one can harm me. No one but me, knows how to live my world. They don't know how to look at the tree to see it shine, or when the snow dances before it folds upon the earth. As usual, I didn't say anything for the rest of the appointment. When Dr. Dawson dismissed me, I know he was annoyed. I frustrated him. He can't figure me out, no one can.
It was still raining when my appointment ended. I was about to unlock my bike, but I froze, thoughts rushing in mind. I knew I was a freak. That was a no brainer. I don't belong anywhere. Not even in my own world. They were the fey, they hated humans, and humans hated anyone different from themselves. I felt a single tear slid down my face. I didn't try to brush it off, knowing the rain blend it in.