Short Story: A Day in Mania

The day starts like everyday before it, I awake. Well, awake isn’t really correct since I wasn’t actually asleep. I don’t sleep. I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept for more than a few hours. Normally I lay in bed aimlessly staring at the ceiling; or closing my eyes trying to force my mind to clear so the beautiful nothingness can take me. But it never happens. Instead I lay awake waiting for those few moments when I do fade away and enter into the realm of dreams, or should I say the realm of nightmares, where pain and death and fear and loneliness waits for me. I hate sleeping; I hate it when the night comes. I would rather live my life filled with the protection of the sun. But lately even the sun holds it’s own kind of darkness, the kind that lights the way to the emptiness of loneliness, of awaiting disasters lurking in plain view. There is nothing for me in the night or the day, nothing but hopelessness and misery. I step out of bed. The sheet slowly falls to the floor. I step out of it, walking gradually to the bathroom so I can take care of my daily hygiene. I watch the water as it swirls around and drains into the dark whole lying in the center of the sink. My mind drifts for a moment, then comes back as I glare at myself in the mirror – to thin, to tall, to dark, to worthless. I splash water on my face; I watch it as it runs down my cheeks. I pull out my toothbrush and my wash towel. I walk from the bathroom after cleaning it behind me. I walk to the closet to find the least attention-causing outfit I can find. I hate attention. I would rather walk through this world oblivious to those around me. It’s better that way, never to be seen, which means never to be judged. There’s no need for the world to see what I see everyday – nothing at all special. I walk from the room heading to the front door. I walk out, then head down the street to the bus stop, passing my broken down piece of shit car. My brother helped me get the blue Mazda Protégé a few years ago, and since the first day I drove off with it, it has been a money pit. I’ve replaced everything in the car, from the engine itself to every hose under the hood. I almost spit at the car as I walk by it. I make it to the bus stop. I’m wearing my dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt, black shoes, a black jacket, and my dark green hat. It’s hotter than I thought it would be in November, so I take my jacket off as I wait for the bus. 45 minutes pass; no bus. I get ready to head to the house, then see the bus coming up the street. I wait, then get on and sit next to a man talking to himself. The man seems to be having a good conversation about life and death. I try to ignore him as I place my hat over my face, closing my eyes as the bus makes its way to the train station. It’s even hotter when I get off the bus. The sun is out; there isn’t a breeze, just dry heat pounding against my dark clothes. I hate the heat. My body feels tired and ready to sit again as I walk to the bottom platform where the train was suppose to be waiting. I ask a man standing on the side of the wall if the train had come yet – the man wore a too tight Michael Vick jersey, with even tighter pants and black and white Reeboks. His skin is darker than mine, he also has a beard and mustache that has hints of gray in them – the man said no. So I walk to the edge of the platform to wait for the train. Thirty minutes later the train pulls into the station. I get on, sit in the back, pull my hat over my face, and close my eyes trying to ignore the people around me. A few people walk through the train asking for money, while most people talk about what’s going on in their lives. I ignore the conversations, lost in my mind – I need a job and a car and something to do and… I step off the train at my stop. I walk to the top of the platform, then make my way to my old school. I walk into the school heading to the cafeteria. I haven’t eaten all day; my body is weak from the heat and the lack of food. I order a sandwich before I walk to the drink machine. I look up as the coke makes a loud crash falling into the open try. There she is, walking towards me with a smile on her face. Her dark long curly hair pulled back in a type of ball like she normally wears it – I like it better when she wears it down, but she doesn’t like it that way – her beautiful dark eyes seeming pleased to see me, her brown skin looking more perfect than the other girls walking around caked in make up. She has a natural beauty that most people would kill for, yet she seems uncomfortable in her skin at times. And other times she seems to glow from the attention. “Your mother trying to get in touch with you,” she says as she reaches for her phone. I stare at her for a moment – why can’t I just say how I feel – I think as I reach for the phone. She hands it to me, then says something about her minutes but I don’t have to worry about it. I call my mom – more bad news – not like I wasn’t expecting it though. My mind wonders again, I think about her, the ‘natural beauty’. I’ve been thinking about her more and more lately. I know I don’t have chance with her, not on her level – to thin, to dark, to stupid, to ugly, to… to… to… – but I still want her. I make a few more calls, one of them turns out good, wasn’t expecting that, but it doesn’t stop the anxiety building inside of me. I hang up the phone, I give it back to her with a smile; she smiles back. I walk to the table where I placed my food. I eat my food secretly hoping she doesn’t sit beside me. I hate being around her at school. I’m not the only one who thinks she’s beautiful. They stop and talk to her as she sits next to me. They act as if I’m not even there. I guess to them I’m not. I guess to her I’m not either. She sits next to me. She smiles again as she begins eating her salad. We talk. I don’t hear what she says or what I say. I’m to busy dreaming about what I will never have. To busy drifting in fantasies of a life with her that will never be. Tell her you idiot – I think. But I don’t. The conversation ends with her having to go to class. I watch her as she walks away. I see them watching too. They didn’t talk to her this time, but I felt them watching, I knew they were there overlooking me as I drowned in her beauty. But overlooking me wasn’t hard to do; there wasn’t anything really to see. I stand from the table. I throw what’s left of my food away. Time to decide what to do. Stay and wait for her to get out of class so I can torture myself with her presence, or look for a job. I sit back down. I look out the lunchroom window as cars pass on the highway. I wait as always. I feel my stomach turning as my heartache. I feel the pain as it encompasses me, leaving me breathless and panicking. Such a beautiful day, too bad I wasn’t built to enjoy it