My Never-Reality

"Your selfish life is so goddamn meaningless! The moment you leave this world is the moment this world will be relieved from a burden like you!"

My mother's line kept repeating itself in my head, over and over, tainting my thoughts and intentions like oil against water. My eyes trailed down to look at the purple, pink and yellow blotches of skin that hadn't cleared since the last time she bottomed another bottle of alcohol.

Ensuring my doorknob was locked, I took out my headphones and allowed myself to escape into the never-reality. I gave myself another reality check by tracing the walls - the cold, empty, walls that confined me in this hell. My eyes fell to gaze at the window which my mother plastered with duct tape. She said that if I were to see the outside, I’d get distracted from my schoolwork. But no, the duct tape was there because my window was facing towards the open street. It risked people seeing what she was doing to me; schoolwork was never a concern since dad walked out on mother seven years ago. Since then, mother let her grasp on the last strand of her conscience slip, and in doing so she let go of any sign of sanity well and completely. Since then she throws around hollow words and shallow gestures to ask things from me, like my job a couple months ago:

“I’m quitting my job, work is haaard!” She said as she let the bottles’ contents drive her insolent thoughts. She approached me for what was the cruelest, most uncomfortable hug. “Get a job, will you? Your mother has done so much for you, you should learn to give back more... My child.”

Ew.

Her deadpan eyes would never care to compliment her words and smile. Yet, I nodded, knowing there’s no refusing this one. My eyes stole a glimpse of the alcohol bottles that stood confidently, knowing my mother was at their mercy.

I wouldn’t say I miss those days - when she was kinder, I mean. I just don’t want to feel so helpless and weak anymore. Not for her, though - for me. I’ve been skipping school more and more, and it’s been killing me. I’m sorry friends, they must be worried. They knew what my mother became since dad left the house.

Gripping the cheap pen I swiped from mother's room, my feelings from the past piled onto me as I envisioned my future - my plans, the path of my future.

I quickly skimmed over my written feelings and intentions on this insignificant but significant legal paper, knowing this was the last thing I was ever to write.

She was not going to like it, but my heart was pulling me towards this decision. I want out.

I really, really want out.

Bringing the paper with me and taking my headphones and phone in hand, I hurriedly escaped the front door without waking the sleeping dragon.

I was ready.

Regret? No.

Just let me out.

I ran and ran.

I ran out of what was once a warm, friendly street to what was now streethome to a monster. I ran out of the circle of neighbourhood that is now home to a poor excuse of a mother. I ran out of that so-called home so I could get away from who is now like no one I ever knew.

I slipped the paper in the mailbox, with my dad’s address. Music was blasting through my skull, though it never came out the other side because I had both buds in - I let my favourite song engulf me in its melody. A gust of wind fell through and past my hair and it followed me the whole way. The wind cracked my heart wide open to what let me see a lovely, earthy scenery. If only I could enjoy it with dad again.

My feet met the entrance of the neighbourhood bridge at the outer area of the suburb.

Gripping the railing hard and peering down, it was a surprisingly high drop, one I have never cared to look at before. Vertigo meeting me, my heart began to pound with fear.

Regret? No.

My feet upped onto the railing and that breeze from before traced through my being, as if tasting my soul. My soul that was going to ride it to my never-reality.

Music hugged my conscience, and I felt my body lean forwards ever so slightly.

More.

More.

Falling.

Regret? Too late.

Falling.

Come to me, my never-reality.

…

…

..

.

Tears of sorrow stormed down the cheeks of my beloved father. It was clear that he was partially blaming himself for leaving, but this was my choice and only mine. My heart clenched, knowing I still had words left to say.

That’s probably why I’m still here. I’m at my funeral. I am hiding behind the table where my portrait stood among bundles of beautiful, white carnation flowers. From the distance, I saw that they were slowly carrying me down the aisle. I looked at the closed coffin that confined my physical body that they recovered a few weeks ago, drenched and cold. I felt the staring that was directed towards the other me, even though it wasn’t really me.

I didn’t know my never-reality would be like this - I was still in reality, just unnoticeable, gone and nothing. I wonder if it was better this way.

I’m sorry dad.

Sorry, friends, too. Thus, my guilt surfaced.

The guilt pained me. And yet…

And yet… no regret did as I was reminded of a certain someone as I heard their fake voice from the crowd of people.

“I’m so sad…” She said, wiping away the tears that weren’t even on her face. “If I knew this was going to happen, I…”

Fake.

Fake!

Fake fake fake!

“Don’t speak, please. The funeral is about to begin.” My dad hushed her mouth shut, thank gracious. Thank gracious, yes, keep your mouth shut.

Oh.

Since she was the only family member that lived with me, she had a speech.

… A speech, for me?

Her cold aura approached my direction, making its way onto the podium in front of me, facing my real loved ones. 

What words could she possibly have to say?

She was pale, more pale than usual. I could tell since I haven’t seen her since my soul flew out of my physical body to roam free. She didn’t have a job, she didn’t have a husband, she didn’t have anyone to live for.

Regret? No.

“Ahem.”

Her voice. Oh no, she even put on her smile. She practically forced the corners of her mouth as far apart as possible, her eyes saying nothing.

“Thank you all for coming here today, I’m sure we’re all very sad about my daughter, which I am too.”

Hmph.

“My daughter was a beautiful young woman who cared for me everyday. She was kind and very friendly to everyone around. She’s done so much for me, and really did help everyone everywhere.

I will miss her support.

I will miss her.

…”

…

Her beautiful words would have been touching, had it not been infected with lies, so her so-called ‘emotive language’ never made it through to move me. My conscious felt a little bad for brushing off her words so quickly, but I really didn’t appreciate how she treated me, and now how she was lying straight through her teeth.

I looked down at my arms which no longer had purple, pink and yellow blotches of skin because I was now only in the form of an unnoticeable, never-reality soul.

My ghostly-self glared at her as she and her black wear that matched her dirty soul made its way back into the crowd and into her seat.

And that was that. The next time I’ll be seeing her was when they read out the legal document. I shuffled out of my hiding position, though I never needed to hide, and walked against the direction that my physical self had come in. I strutted straight through my coffin, and caught a last glimpse of my friends and family. I walked out, never looking back.

…

“Everything of hers goes to me?” My dad said. “Actually, everything but one thing. Two, actually. Two cents, for you.” He blankly stared at the lady who had long been a stranger to him.

“This can’t be! That insolent little brat!” Mother stripped away her calm demeanor that she walked into the room with. “Was she really thinking of leaving her poor mother with nothing?! Not even a hundred bucks to live for the week… Just two cents!”

I hated her screaming voice. Even though I had no real ears, a vibration shot through my head, causing my salty dissatisfaction.

Regret? No.

Dad remained silent; he probably expected me to give nothing to mother anyway.

“I didn’t raise a girl just to have her leave with my only source of income! Now I have to get a job! Ugh!” She continued. “You! I bet you told her to ruin my life like this!”

Her spat words were rotten, but dad was fine.

“I didn’t.”

“Huh?!” Her vain almost popped.

“I didn’t tell her to do anything. This was all of her own accord. She must have had her own reasons.” He said.

“Why you-” Her arm began to raise before someone else came to stop her.

“Let go!”

She was dragged out the room, leaving dad alone in the stillness.

Turning around and scanning the air, as if looking for something, my dad spoke: “Are you alright, dear?”

He was speaking to nothingness.

Oh.

“I hope you’re doing well.” He said with a tinge of sadness at the back of his throat. “I’m sorry for leaving you with her.”

It’s okay, dad. Really. I’ve done all I need to do, so I can safely leave here and go to my never-reality.

“I hope you’re happy.”

I am, now that I’m here.

Here in my never-reality.