Fog

         I hear the beeping of my alarm clock, but instead remain stubbornly beneath my comforter, instinctively wrapping my arms tightly around my knees. Keeping my eyes shut, while ignoring the persistent shouts issuing from my alarm clock; I try desperately to recall what I’d been dreaming about before my untimely awakening. It’s the first pleasant dream I’ve had in months. I need pleasant.
         However, as the menace increasingly screams its protests, I’m forced to abandon any hope of regaining that moment of happiness. Releasing my physical guard as I unwind myself from my fetal position, I attempt to don my emotional shield, hoping merely to survive another day. I already begin counting the hours until I can retreat into my room once again, into the numbing fog of sleep. My first objective of the day? Silencing the ever-present nuisance at my bedside.
         In the startling silence that follows, I’m especially tempted to return sleep, my sanctuary. However, with what will power I still posses; I fight the urge and reluctantly raise myself to a sitting position. I reach for my window shade in hopes that some natural light will help me wake from my ceaseless exhaustion, my constant numbed existence. Wishful thinking. The sun, a symbol of life, warmth, and contentment, remains hidden from me. My hopeful eyes meet yet another disappointment; fog monopolizes my view.
         I study the effects of this melancholy force of nature with distressed eyes. The outdoor life has been erased; the color eliminated. Such a bleak grey view as this is not the consolation I am searching for. The thick blanket of grey creates nothing but a dulled, hazy appearance. Across the street I notice my neighbors golden retriever laying aimlessly in the yard, just another lifeless, muted figure.
         A light rapping upon my door quickly draws my attention away from the desolate scene before me. Without waiting for a reply, my door slowly opens, enough for my mother to stick her head through. “It’s time to get up Jenny,” her tender voice whispers. “Are you hungry?” But she already knows the answer to that question. Our eyes meet for only a split second, but that is more than enough for me. The pain is too visible on her face; her eyes plead with me, full of concern, and fear which I have ignited. The anguish that I continue to cause her is to clearly displayed upon her strained features, though she sincerely attempts to conceal it. A renewed guilt floods through me, and I frantically search for something to preoccupy my gaze until it is safe again, until she is out of sight.
         “No thanks, I’m not hungry.” I answer the question which might as well have been rhetorical. “I’ll get something to eat at school.” She knows this is a lie. I know it’s a lie. Everyone knows it is a lie. But we pretend to believe it, because it’s easier to ignore the truth. I do not dare meet her gaze; my eyes remain captivated by some nonexistent fascination that has gained my absolute attention. I wait until I hear the light click of my door being shut, and the sounds of my mother shuffling back down the hall. I’m alone, again.
         Suppressing the spasms of guilt, completely aware that it will resurface later; I manage the strength to walk down the hall to the bathroom to wash. Not that it really matters; no one looks twice at me to notice if my hair sticks out at odd angles anyway. I automatically walk straight to the scale to weigh myself yet again, 5 feet 3 inches and 81 pounds. Stepping down from the weighing machine, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and freeze. What I see staring back at me is appalling. Deep, dark circles subsist beneath my hollow, sunken brown eyes. My cheek bones jut out awkwardly from my emaciated face.
         I stand staring at my reflection, lost in thought. How has my life gotten so out of control? How have I let this go so far? I don’t live anymore; it’s like I am constantly pushing my way through each apathetic day. I’m living in a fog and I don’t see how to escape it. My eyes well up, and a solitary tear leaks over the edge of my eye, rolling freely down my face.