What is not

    CHAPTER 1 me, myself and I
There is this 'idea' that for every action that there is a reaction. Meaning for everything there is there is something that there is not. And it is by this idea that I live my life, and it is also that idea which ruins my life. Around me everyone tells me what to do, what they want to do, and what they could be. That however is not what is important to me; more important to me is what is not. I am not an adult. Yet I am not a child. I am not fat yet I am not skinny. I do not have siblings or a dog. I am not saying I am nobody as that is not true yet I am also not a somebody, I don’t really have many friends, but there is one person who is not an enemy. His name is not John; John is a boy at school I dislike strongly. Not john isn't an attractive boy but I do not dislike him. There is rare an afternoon I don’t sit with him on the bus. Which means there is someone (actually many people) whom I do not sit with. But they don't notice because they don’t think about what isn’t, and also because they don’t think about me.
         My mom isn’t a stay at home mom, in fact she isn’t much of a mother at all, Sometimes I think she doesn’t even remember she even has a kid. But I don’t hate her either. She isn’t home much and when she is she is never off of her phone. I don’t blame her though. She wasn’t old enough to raise a child when she had me and she hasn’t grown up much since then. She now looks nothing like the child she was when she didn’t graduate with the rest of her class. She is one of the farthest from ugly people outside I have ever seen. In fact I would not deny the fact she is quite beautiful.
         I don’t have a dad, but he doesn’t have me either so I guess everyone loses here. My mum does not like to talk about him, so she doesn’t. All I know about him is what he isn’t, and that’s here. I don’t waste tears on a man I have never met, and if I do I would never admit it.
         I do not enjoy school I also don’t skip however as I am not dumb. I don’t have any classes with my friend; he doesn’t have a class with me. And there are plenty of people that neither of us have a class with. I don’t mind not having a class with him as it makes not listening to those around me less difficult.
         I don’t sleep well most nights. Visions of sugar plums are not what dances through my mind however. In fact most night. Terrible horrors of my mind sneak out from the recesses where I keep them hidden and jump out in an attempt to commandeer my head. I rarely want to get out of bed in the morning and today is no exception, my alarm refuses to shut up however so I cannot go back to sleep.
         To rid myself of the stench of a bad night’s sleep I take a shower that is neither hot nor cold, and when I get in all it seems to be is wet, which makes it not dry. I don’t find showers relaxing, nor do I find them invigorating. Getting dressed means I am no longer unclad. I am also not wearing any bright colors or foolish ribbons or bows. I do not like colors and my peers do not care for my all black wardrobe but I do not care.
         As it is every morning I don’t eat breakfast because my mum doesn’t so there is never any breakfast food in the house. And rarely does leftover take out sound like a satisfying morning meal.
          I don’t miss the bus even though it’s something I definitely would not be upset about. I look to the house next to mine and don’t see that ever familiar face so I instantly assume he is ill as he has a very doting mum who makes sure he is out in plenty of time for the bus each morning. It doesn’t make my day, him not being here, but I don’t dwell on it. Instead I just stop standing in a seat with no one else and stop listening to the annoying voices around me by putting my headphones and floating into a world without worry that I escape to at any chance I am given. Music.
         I am startled by a scantily clad girl's piercing shrill of laughter as we pull up to my unavoidable fate, high school. As I stand I cannot help but glaring at the girl and waiting till she acknowledges my annoyed stare which she does with a toss of her head that makes me want to walk up and punch her. But instead I stand with the rest of my peers and walk into that harsh building that consumes ones soul one class at a time.
         Now that I am no longer in the bus I am in the winter air and it is far from warm. By the time I am inside by my locker that doesn’t open properly my hands have long since lost feeling in them and are just starting to regain feeling and remind me of this with sharp stinging that shoots up my arms.
           I wander through the day on autopilot. Somehow I manage to avoid talking to anyone all day but a teacher who asked me to come put an equation up on the board though I did not want to take that opportunity from any of the others who I knew were dying to show off their intelligence in order to gain favor with one another. I on the other hand just shuffled to the board and answered as quickly as possible to escape the probing glances of my less than friendly classmates.
         Well the day has come to an end and without a thing to show for it I am back on the bus. Afternoon bus, ash it is never anywhere near quiet meaning it is also nowhere near a pleasant experience. Last year I tried to tell my mom why I shouldn’t ride the bus but she did not like that idea and so she did not listen and I did not get my way. Well I am not stuck here but a few more years then, where too?  I haven’t an idea but somewhere away where I can change things for myself. As things around here will NEVER change. Well that’s my current belief at least. What will change in my life time that hasn’t in the past 50 years. It’s always success for the same people, failure for the rest. America has its potential but only if you stay where you are put. I know my place and that is nowhere near most of my schoolmates.
As it is I have no idea what I want to do with my life. No matter what I do there is so much I will never be able to accomplish. If I am rich I will not be poor and if I am a soldier I can’t be a very good pacifist. If I am a diehard P.E.T.A member I can’t very well hold dog fights in my backyard. If I am a nobody I  can’t be a somebody and if I am me I cannot be you. That’s fine with me though as I have never been anyone but myself it is not unfamiliar.
         Well finally I am no longer on the bus and have walked into my house which is far from warm. I take my shoes off but not my socks as even with that little bit of cotton on them my toes are still feeling like ten little popsicles. 
         In my house there is no one but me, no boys, no girls and no one who cares. I don’t enjoy the silence of an empty home so I do not leave the television off for more than a minute after I have shed my shoes and coat. There is nothing good on so I swivel my body around I can still see the small screen in my peripherals but I am hardly giving it a thought as I reach for the phone to call the boy who was not at school today. He doesn’t let it ring more than once and is not at all surprised to hear my voice although thinking about it I believe it’s one of the only times I have ever called him. He doesn’t talk for long but I don’t mind. He isn’t feeling well. That’s all I find out. I don’t bother asking details as I am not sure if I care enough to know.
         I don’t stay in the room much longer after he is no longer on the line. Next moment I am lying on my bed grateful for my lack of homework this evening. With nothing better to do I fall asleep as I often do. Taking comfort in the daylight to keep my nightmares at bay.
         My mum walks in some time later talking on the phone and not being quiet at all. So violently pulled out of my sleep I roll over and slide out of bed. When I reach the kitchen she throws a burger on the table and nods at me obviously signifying it's mine without the hassle of actually having to talk to me. Upon my sitting down she swivels on one pink heel and quickly walks out of the room with a confidence I could only imagine. She is in no way keeping her voice down from the other room so I cannot help but to hear what she is saying and from the sounds of it she is talking to a man she has plans with, chances are they met last night and tomorrow she will not even remember his name. But I have long since tried to understand the way my mother lives her life. She leaves me to my peace so I give her the same room. Kids on my bus so often gripe and whine in their childish voices how annoying the rules their parents give them are. I remember I used to wish my mom cared enough to restrict my _________. But I have since come to realize the delusions of a child are one to be put away at a young age and that nothing would pull my mother into the role of a mom.
         Taking a bite of my burger I try to think of the last time my mom made a home cooked meal but I don’t think she ever actually has. I have not a slow metabolism which I am grateful for and because of this I am not yet obese.
         She doesn’t stay in the other room for long though soon she glides by telling me not to wait up for her, but that is no longer even necessary to say. She knows the days of my siting by the widow just hoping for a glance of the life she nightly leaves me out of, are long gone. Then she is no longer in the house and I am once again with no one around.
         I do not have anything to do all night so after eating I don’t stay at the table or even in the kitchen, for the rest of the night I do nothing but watch television shows that do not interest me and play computer games that are not fun. I don’t like to go to sleep knowing I am alone but lonely in no new word to me. But I barely am on the edge of sleep tile I hear the door no longer shut then it’s no longer open. I make sure the TV is not on and that I don’t stay awake for long. In the morning I wake feeling nary a bit refreshed. The night is gone and the day is not yet old yet there is nothing about it to me.
         I am not what one might call a cheery person. I am not one to say it like it isn’t. I am not like those adults and students I know who are so content conforming to the mindset of everyone around them and never having a rebel thought unless it’s what everyone is thinking to. They are never quiet about the way they think of me, and them and their linked thought process being unpopular with one I became an outcast to them all. But they don’t know me at all. I have never talked to most of them. They have no knowledge or wisdom about my life or my past. They are blind visionless and have no fate but the one their parents ahead of them had as well. It’s nothing more than a cycle and the funny thing is they all say they want to be independent. To be different, to take a path their parents never took. While they do the exact same thing as those before them and those around them did and do. They live without knowing and in that same way they live without caring.
         I cannot say I am better than them but I also can not lie and say that I do not try to be.

Chap 2. Me, myself and I
Well I am not yet dead so I can’t avoid the day and it holds no surprises. My bus mate is no longer ill so his days of missing are over. We convers ate as the bus drags us towards school but none of our topics hold my interest. So before the bus leaves our neighborhood I am no longer listening to or looking at him, or anyone else on the bus. I rest my head on the back of the seat and melt into the music drifting through my headphones.
         Our classes are in different halls as are our lockers so we part ways after exiting the bus.  At lunch we don’t avoid each other and don’t have any others just dying to sit with us. So it’s just us too sitting, not talking as he is not yet caught up in his classes due to his skipped day and I am not much of a conversationalist myself. I finish all my homework for the night before lunch is over then put my head down and listen to the drone of a thousand lost kids hoping to find purpose by any means they can. Then the bell rings and its back to the non-joy of high school classes.
         Classes blur by and I stop at the end of the day and wonder where so many years of my life have gone to. School has taken any evidence of a productive person I could have been and left me as nothing more than another file in a cold cabinet condensing my life into nothing but ink and paper. People are so quick to throw labels at others and once a judgment is made the chance to make a new name for oneself goes out the window like a weak perfume.
         The winter air is far from new yet at the end of the day a fresh breeze blows against my face. I almost smile despite myself. But it’s not quite that refreshing. While walking me nary lifts my gaze from the ground but walking out I lift my eyes slowly capturing such typical high school visions as my (((eyes))) see the bus. I pull my hood up over my head and drop my gaze my mind set that today I will brave the cold and walk home. I am in no hurry to get back anyway. The frigid air stings my nostrils but I take deep breathe inhaling each frozen breath and exhaling all the not pleasant thoughts of the day.
         By the time I have left school grounds my nose is already numb and my fingers have turned bright red. I shove them into my coat pocket and wander ahead. Trying to remember the last time I walked home. I remember the day I first met the neighbor boy. We were both a few younger and hadn’t any other friends. Me for being unlike the other kids and him for being new. However getting to know him we realized we connected well. And days now we spend hardly even needing words we just listen to music and sometimes a conversation will come up but he knows me better than to try to get a long discussion about anything but music and upon occasion the sad state of things. He does however have classmates he doesn’t seem to dislike terribly. I must say his one fault is his ever caring for others thoughts of him. But it’s this that gets him invited to spend afternoons at the mall and nights at parties. Neither of which hold any allure to me I do wonder upon occasion though...
         My thoughts were disrupted by a honking horn next to me and I next to me is a car full past the legal limits of classmates of mine smoking and laughing. They are listening to some trash on the radio that I am sure plays on that station every other hour and that they will never think about the artist of unless to comment on how "hot" he or she is maybe. I shake my head in dismay at the lack of appreciation for the arts young people now have. I once brought this up to my mother but she just started laughing hysterically and patted my arm I lowered my eyes quickly to hide the shame in having my thoughts so blatantly pushed aside. Later that night I heard retelling the story of her child who is so high and mighty above the other children. I blink away the dismay in being shamed by my own parent and keep walking. The car carrying my peers turns right and rolls away in a blur of blue mustang. I don’t see each individual when I look at them so quick to judge me and others for our appearances I cannot help but to do the same.
         Now lost in the misery that consumes me at any chance I allow it over a childhood scorned by the only one whose opinion ever mattered to me. I cannot ignore to the sound of my own steady breathing and wait until I can listen to the sound of that and that of the never sweet thoughts blasting through my mind before putting my headphones on and getting into the world I prefer to live in. Since I hate the one I don’t live. I say I don’t live because I don’t find worth in my time spent. Not to say my life is worthless for it is not. It just is not worth anything. Yet. It will be though; it can’t stay this way forever. Someday I will no longer be consumed by misery.
         I don’t make it home in record time but the walk doesn’t seem to have taken as long as I remembered. And it was nowhere as miserable as a bus ride and so I begin to wonder why I don’t walk home more often. Well perhaps I shall. My key falls to the ground when I try to unlock the door and I cannot refrain from dropping a few curses as well. Once inside I do not hesitate before dropping my cold jacket and running to my not cold bed to get unfrozen.
         I am not awake for long. The night is not the opportune time for me to sleep. Night Is when it is not safe. Day is when the nightmares can’t get me though. Day is when it is not as dangerous. But of course it is never really safe. Not for any of us. You are not safe. Not even in your own thoughts.