The truth in our songs
Chapter 1
Maia-Jane Miller
A quick flashlight.
And then it was gone but I felt the bright burning beam like a stab in my eyes and squeezed them shut to make the pain stop. Words could never describe how much I hated this. Here I was again, without purpose and utterly lost.
,, So, what’s your name then? ,, the woman asked me and I looked at her unfathomably for a second before I answered. But I wasn’t really listening to her. I was stuck in my thoughts, stuck in this new environment that I hated so much.
,, Your name? ,, she said more firmly this time after my eyes had watched her longer than planned. Her piercing green gaped at me as she realized that I was scanning her with a glimpse of negativistical facial expression.
,, Maia-Jane Miller ,, I answered and my eyes let go of her, to wander through the studio and inspect her equipment.
,, My name is Maia-Jane Miller ,, I said more confidently this time and she nodded quickly, her lips formed into a fake smile before turning back to her laptop and typing it in, for whatever she needed it. My outfit was just not it today, the big blue baggy pants on my short legs made me look like I was in fifth grade and with my black sweatshirt I felt like I had just woken up. Not to forget my worn out black converse that had more cracks in the fabric than visible color. To put it all in one, I looked boring and was half-buried under my yellow vans school bag.
Cursing, I walked down the school corridors, past strange faces of the high school students who were waiting in line for their call number. They were mumbling, laughing and chattering. They were excited to graduate this year. But honestly- who likes growing up? It’s nothing to be happy about, nothing to look forward to, it’s just depressing to know that you become an adult one day. It’s not thrilling, I just had to look at our parents, the teachers, or outsiders. Their life seemed to be lifeless, dragging, like being in a constant time wrap. Doing the same thing every day, wasn’t that restrictive? Accepting that you can’t escape becoming that type of person? Actually I was tired. Tired to see fake smiles everyday, tired to do the same shit every day, tired to try my very best to be good each day. Because the question was just Why? For what? I didn’t ask to learn stuff I’d probably never need again for the rest of my life and I surely didn’t want to be good every day.
But truth was, I was no one but the quiet, invisible girl, hiding behind glasses and oversized clothes, so that no one would even want to look at me.No one ever did anyways. I was a ghost here, merely seen.
Until today. Until I met the insufferability of my life, the biggest pain in the ass and the most tragic voice I had ever heard. It was the last year of highschool when I met Blake Achlys Huxley- and it were the fates writing our story.
© Elaine Persigla 2024-06-14