Chapter the Fourth

    The morning is gray and boring. Amaya never met me by the house. We can text each other all night, and there’s always a message waiting for me by the time I get to my bedroom after we’ve parted ways after school. There has been nothing for the past day. I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to go to school for another day of cold shoulders. It hurts enough knowing that she can’t stand my guts anymore, but seeing her act it out in front of me feels like a billion daggers that just give me paper cuts, slicing flesh lightly so no blood leaks out, making it more painful than a killing blow to the back.

    I debate skipping school, but the automatic message goes to my parents when I skip, and I don’t want to deal with that. My parents don’t care about me, but I’m expected to not make trouble for them. A screamo “lecture” would be the cherry on an absolutely s****y day, or however long this is going to last. I don’t need this bullshit. I’m tired of everything. I don’t want to deal. But I have to. I’m not aloud to not deal with my problems in a non-detrimental way.

    I pull a large hoodie over my head, string a pair of earbuds through the inside and plug myself in, blasting rap as loud as it can go, until the beat sounds tinny. I flip the hood up and make the walk to school. I check my phone to see the time, see the lock screen of my girlfriend smiling up at me, with no new messages.

    I miss the times we had only two days ago. The fight will most likely- hopefully- blow over by a week, but I don’t know if I can last that long. The voices get louder as time goes on, the longer I lose touch with reality. Amaya is my reality, and my whole existence is to see her smiling. And if she can’t smile- smile for me, smile for herself- then I can’t see what my purpose is. I can’t see how I matter if I can’t make the girl I love smile, if she won’t listen when I tell her I love her.

    The longer I stare at her, the stronger the burning sensation gets behind my eyes. The screen goes dim and I tap it to keep her smiling face with me. I wish that I could see her smile like that in real life, in this moment. I wish we could exist in that happy bubble we were in at the moment the camera went off, to never have to leave and experience the s**t life loves to pile on.

    Amaya’s face dims again, and this time I let it go completely dark. Let her smile disappear. I heave a sigh, put the phone back into my pocket, and keep walking, prepared to experience yet another day that I can’t stand and wish would end.

    The English teacher drones on and on, and I’m not paying attention. I check my phone, looking for a message from Amaya, hoping against all odds that she’ll have tried to contact me during school hours. I stare out the window when the odds are confirmed… with no message to be seen. The sun still hasn’t come out and I’m thankful, it feels worse when the world is happy and you’re wishing you could be six feet under to avoid everything. When the clouds seem to match my feelings, I begin to feel normal again, or at least that I’m not the only one feeling the way that I am at that moment.

    Even though what the teacher is saying is blowing right past me, a little phrase catches on my ears and I tune back in, “...mental illness test during this period.” My stomach turns and I continue listening to what the teacher is saying.

    “You will need your parents to sign this consent form saying whether or not you will be taking the test. An email is also going out to remind you to get it signed.” The teacher says, sealing my fate. The email will be going to my parents who will give the consent in belief that all ‘good parents’ would get their child tested, as well as under the assumption that I won’t fail.

    The teacher passes thin stacks of paper down the rows we sit in, my stomachs pain multiplying as he gets closer to my row, the papers making their way to me. I feel faint as I look over the sheet of paper, and I wonder if I’m going to puke on the words. I don’t want to do this, at all. Maybe if I’m sick I can get a pass on the test. I won’t have to take it.

    I look over the paper, it lists the day, purpose, time, and make-up days for the test. I can’t skip it. I’m going to have to take the test. But I don’t want to- I’ve taken enough online to make a self-evaluation. I already know I have depression, I don’t need the school to tell me too. I shove the piece of paper into a random folder, hoping that I’ll forget- although unlikely- and won’t get the paper signed or lose the paper beforehand.

    I look around the room, see bored faces looking over the same piece of paper I’ve already put away. Some look apprehensive, nervous, or anxious, but the majority of them just look bored and uninterested. Most of the kids are normal, don’t care about this assessment, but there are a few who look like they feel as I do. The ones who look like they’re being slowly pushed to the edge of a cliff and feel as though jumping is not the worst option being presented to them.

    I turn and lock eyes with Amaya, who has the eyes of a man on death row. She’s petrified- she obviously wants to take the assessment even less than I do. Her toes are off the edge of the cliff, the swimmer about to take the dive. She doesn’t turn away, her eyes begging me to save her but I don’t know how. Her parents will also want her to take the test, but for a different reason than my parents would want me to: her parents are actually good people, albeit slightly oblivious. They may not notice when their daughter is having a panic attack or feeling depressed, but they care about her wellbeing, make it a point to talk to her everyday. They have a family meal everyday, and her parents don’t shy away from tough subjects, and they care about her opinions.. Usually.

    Her parents will expect her to get perfect grades, to be good at what she does. They expect the best from her, and her greatest fear is not rising to meet their expectations. She’s already ‘failed’ them once. She remembers those times, remembers the practices that stretched for hours. How she ruined everything for them. She never wants to experienced their disappointment, and she never wants to be in that position ever again. So she pushes herself to do better than her past self, to be better than all of her competitors. She pushes herself until she gives up on sleep, until her anxiety is a constant companion. The way she strives for perfection isn’t healthy but it is impossible to stop her. She doesn’t know how to change, see what ‘normal’ is. Amaya can’t pass this test as a healthy human girl. She doesn’t remember what it was like to be ‘normal’, she may never have been. Amaya will end up scoring high on this test, and high scores are the worst thing that you can get. She will fail. And this failure means a talk with the school psychologist, with a therapist, with her parents. But maybe it will help her...

    The bell rings and our gaze breaks, people walking in between us, each of us hurriedly getting ready to make the rush for the next class. I get ready slower than Amaya and she waits for me, not taking the opportunity to make her escape from me. We walk together, side by side, neither of us talking. But it feels so right to have her next to me again. That we are whole once again. This feeling could keep me afloat forever, the voices can talk to me when Amaya is by my side. Amaya is my lucky charm, keeping the voices at bay, saving me from the thoughts that run through my head.

    Can I save Amaya like she saves me? I remember the look in her eyes after the announcement. I saw that look this morning in the mirror. I know what she was feeling. It’s so much easier to run, to die than face the hardships of living. The plunge takes less bravery because you’re already at the end of your rope. It’s harder to stay alive with the constant fear of approval, the fear of not fitting in, of not being normal, of being noticed as the odd one out in life. The little step off the cliff is nothing compared to fear of having to go through the motions for eighty or more years unless death takes you from life too early from the daily struggle. Amaya is my last defense against the ease of the fall. Without her by my side I would surely have taken my life already. I just hope that Amaya feels the same way about me… without her, my life has no meaning and I might as well be buried alive as how the world makes me feel.