--Useless writing ahead. Void of any facts or advice or any other useful things. Proceed only if you are exceedingly bored--
It's ten to six in the afternoon. I got home at ten past two. I haven't seen anybody since. I took the train.
I got to the station with a half minute to spare before the train arrived. Just enough time to swipe my card and jog onto the platform before waiting for the train to slow to a stop and climbing on.
Two stops later and I'm getting off. Still catching my breath after holding it while in the tunnel. I'm not a fan of tunnels. Or trains.
I kept myself calm on the ride. I didn't panic. All tears stayed at bay, and my heart rate kept pretty constant. An improvement on my teary panic that I'm going to die or end up in another country from my first few lonesome train rides. Not that a train could land me in a different country. This is Australia.
I walked inside when I got home, carrying the paper that nobody had collected. It was warm inside. Not as hot as outside, but uncomfortable. I put the paper on the lounge chair, my tote bag on the other, and wandered off to the bathroom.
I went into my room. Opened the door first and saw the Typo bag I assumed was the Thankyou gift from the librarian I'd helped out. I turned my fan on and flopped onto my bed. I opened my gift that I should have saved for Christmas and took my book I hadn't finished reading.
I finished that book ten minutes ago. Didn't take too long.
I have this picture above my bed.
It's of myself, my mum and my older brother.
I don't know how old I was when the picture was taken. But I remember deliberately placing my foot thinking 'I want it showing.'
I don't know why. But that's what I wanted. I guess I got it.
We were all friends then. My mum my brother and me. My brother was the awesome boy I had to live with who sometimes annoyed me. And mum was the strongest person in the world.
Its almost sad how naive we all are as children.
My concern was having my foot show in the picture for whatever reason. When it should have been that the two people I was having a photo with were both idiots. And so was I.
I didn't know what mums natural hair colour was and I didn't know she had a real name. I knew she had a yin yang tattoo on her right ankle and a butterfly above her bum.
I didn't know why my brother didn't want to play with me all the time, and I didn't know how he never died in Banjo & Kazooie. I knew he had two beds in his room and loved Action Man.
I didn't know why I did half the things I did or why I felt like crying so much. I knew I wanted people to like me and I knew that barely anyone did if they didn't have to.
Thats what I knew.
And that's what I didn't know.
I knew that Brodey was hit by a car just like his sister, Tess, was. I didn't find out that Tyson was put down until three years after the fact.
Lying on my bed now, staring up at that picture, it's easy to realise I am still that same stupid girl. I am still just as naive. Maybe less ignorant, but still as naive.
Maybe I'll stay this way forever. Possibly. Maybe I won't.
Maybe one day I'll wake up and see the world for what it is. Maybe I already see it that way, maybe I'm just having trouble processing that, and that's why my mind gets so hazy.
Because my mind does get hazy. On those days, these days, people ask me if I'm unwell. I will sit there, look at them a while, give a half hearted sort of reassuring grin and say those two poisonous words. 'I'm fine.'
In these moments, in my eyes I am fine. Just hazy. But I guess hazy isn't always good. It's a strange, clouded world in my mind. Every now and then I will be shown my surroundings with stark clarity. Most of the time I'm simply going through the motions, that's when people see I'm okay. That's my normal. Sometimes though. I get this.
I get hazy.