Dull Sky #1

The sun peered in through a crack in my fluffy purple curtains. It
was hard to wake up these days. Every morning started the same, every
morning even more unbearable than the one before it. I pressed my face
deep in my warm pillow, wishing I could stay just like this forever. I
felt like I had just fallen asleep. My body ached of tiredness, and my
eyes felt heavy, they were reluctant to open. Still, the sun pounded
relentlessly at my bed, beckoning me awake slowly. I opened my eyes and
stared up at the ceiling. It was a pale blue, like my walls. Sometimes
I wished they were anything but blue. Pink, or yellow, or even red.
Anything but blue. Waking up every morning and staring up at blue. Just
blue, like the sky. It became a routine: fall asleep, wake up, stare at
blue. The same blue that I had seen the morning before, and the same
blue I would see the morning after, and the next one, and the next. It
just went on and on, like the sky. The same blue sky.
It felt like a century until I finally had the strength to pull myself
out of bed. I sat up, still wobbly with sleepiness, and blinked. My
eyes felt swollen, as if I couldn't open them any wider than a tiny
slit. I came to my feet feebly, and stumbled toward the door. My room
was small, so it only took a few steps to make it there. It was the
smallest in the house, and probably the smallest in the neighborhood.
It was packed with piles of junk. Trinckets sat in every space
available. Tiny boxes and music makers, and glass figures. I tried to
decorate, even though I had absolutely no decorating ability. Maybe
that was why my room looked like it did. Its was a square, with a large
window taking up an entire wall, with piles of old papers and books and
folders that stood up to the bottom of the windowsill. Just beside it
was a desk that was squeezed into a corner, that was also piled head
high with ancient papers. My closet, though, lay open and vacant. A few
of my old dresses from when I was much younger hung on mismatched
hangers. They were all too small now, but I had never tried to dispose
of them. The entire closet floor was bare, except for a small pile of
old stuffed animals, some with ripped seams, others with pen marks,
that lay in the center. Most of my clothes were in my dresser, which
sat crammed in the corner next to my wicker bed. Some of the drawers
wouldn't even close because they were too stuffed with unworn clothes.
I sometimes wondered why I didn't try to put them in my closet, but
then I realized it was just because I was lazy. I came to terms with
that, and it hadn't crossed my mind since.
I turned and pulled my door open, and fumbled down the hall. The entire
hall wall was covered with family pictures. Most of them were of me,
even though I had five siblings. My parents had always been so proud of
me, and I wondered why. There wasn't much to be proud of. I only made
strait A's because I had nothing else to do. I had only a few friends,
and the ones I did have were barely friends anyway. They always thought
I was happy. They did, at least, until the beggining of this year. I
used to be part of all the school clubs and activities. I did
everything; chorus, track, even drama club. I had never enjoyed any of
them, but I did it anyway. I knew they thought I was going places. They
thought I had a future, but the only future I saw was a life working at
Burger King and asking 'would you like fries with that'? Burger King
had never appealed to me, but I couldn't imagine myself doing anything
else.
It wasn't until this year I had given up on impressing my parents. I
had dropped all of the clubs I had been in. I still made decent grades,
but that had always come easy to me. My parents tried to convince
themselves I was perfectly happy, even though they knew I wasn't. It
wasn't their fault; they gave me everything I needed. If I asked to do
anything, they would let me without question. It wasn't because of how
my life was going as much as it was that I was bored. I hadn't had a
crush, much less a boyfriend, all of ninth grade. And seeing as it was
only two weeks before the end of school, it didn't seem like that was
going to change. I didn't mind it much though. I never had much luck
with guys. They few boyfriends that I had hadn't lasted for more than a
month. They were the kind of boyfriends that you would give a hug when
you ran into them in the hall, pass them a note every once and a while,
but not much more than that.
Still, mom and dad kept those pictures up on the wall. The pictures of
the used-to-be-me. The Karol with the track uniform, the Karol in her
first play, the Karol with a future, the Karol with a life. Life wasn't
so much a life now, it was a routine. It happened like it did everyday.
I thrived on routine, I thrived on everyday, I thrived on blue. That
never ending blue.
I dragged myself down the stairs and onto the kitchens lenolium floor.
Mom looked up from her crossword, and grinned.
"Hey sweetie. How are you feeling?" "Better, I think." I had said that
I wasn't feeling well last night. I was really feeling fine, but didn't
want mom to know the only reason I looked like this was because I was
depressed. Scaring mom was never a good idea. She always over reacted,
and usually made it worse. Mom wanted the best for all of us, and
couldn't stand knowing one of us was sad. She had to keep us happy. She
needed to keep us all happy, because that was the only way she was
happy. People talk about parents living through their kids. Mom didn't
just live through us, she survived on us. Every aspect of her life was
revolving around us, and sometimes I wished it weren't that way.
Mom beamed at me and went back to her crossword. I took a seat opposite
of her on the old wooden chairs. They must have been ancient, my baby
pictures had them in it. They creaked and groaned under my wieght. I
must have been the first one up, because there were still plates
sitting on the table with food. I wondered how long it had been sitting
here, if they were cold or not. I took a bite anyway. It could have
been half way rotted and I would have eaten it.
"Kaaarrrrooolllll!" my little brother shouted as he latched his arms
around me. Dean was the youngest of the family, only six, and was
probably the only normal one left. Samantha, the oldest, had landed
herself in a juvinille detention center when she was 16, and then
pregnant by the next year. Samantha was 20 now, but we hadn't heard
from or seen her in over 2 years. At first, Mom tried everything to get
in touch with her. She would stay up night after night, pouring through
old phone books. But she had given up though. It was probably the only
time I had seen mom give up on one of her kids.
Then there was Nikki and Michelle. They were twins, both seventh grade,
and both spoiled rotten. They were always too cute for their own good;
mom and dad waited on them hand and foot. If Nikki got something, so
did Michelle. If Michelle bought something, Nikki did to. They looked
absolutely identical, but their personalities were as different as
night and day. Michelle was the social butterfly, with the best friend
bracelets and Valentine's day presents from her boyfriends. It seemed
like Michelle had a new boyfriend every two weeks. I hadn't seen her go
without one since the beggining of last year. Nikki, on the other hand,
didn't LIKE the guys, she was a guy. Not literally, of course, but she
did everything the guys did. She rollerbladed, lived in the arcade, and
boarded like a pro. Strangely enough, though, Michelle and Nikki got
along perfectly fine. Of course they got in an occasional cat fight,
but other than that, barely talked. That was probably why they got
along so well. They left each other alone.
"Karol, are you going to eat that?" I looked up from my bacon and eggs,
and saw Dad sitting across from me. I hadn't seen him come in, but we
rarely did. He was the kind of guy that could stand in the room
listening to your conversation and you wouldn't even realize he was
there. We only saw him in the mornings reading the newspaper. We were
lucky to get a word out of him.
"Oh yeah, I'm just, well..."I stopped, realizing dad wasn't listening
anyway.
The rest of breakfast was eaten in total silence. I hated silence. It
felt like no one cared how each other felt, it made you feel uneasy,
unimportant. You were scared to move to quickly or chew to loudly. If
you did, you would disturb the silence. And that was unacceptable. You
didn't disturb silence.

***Continuing....