Rainbows and circles

Around 12 p.m., I walk up to the bathroom and I look in the mirror. I look tired. The circles under my eyes are getting darker and my eyes look puffy, but it doesn’t matter. Nobody is going to notice. Sometimes I wonder if I’m actually invisible. If people see me at all, or if I’ve turned into some kind of ghost that only reflects light but never feelings. I put on some concealer, desperately trying to cover up my tiredness and then I put on my sneakers to walk outside; some fresh air might be good. I decide to walk to the store.

The sky looks almost unreal today, like it’s been painted in too-bright colors, and the wind feels like it's whispering secrets I’ll never understand.

As I stand in the line to pay, I notice that my hands are shaking. They can see my hands are shaking, I think to myself as I hand the cashier the money for the ice cream I bought. I drop a coin on the floor, and in panic, I blurt out "I'm sorry" and run out of the store. My face is completely red and I forget the ice cream; so embarrassing. They must think I'm a weirdo.

As I walk home, I notice people staring at me and I disappear into the ground. My eyes are steady, watching my feet as I take one step after another. I’m trying to remember how to walk. How do normal people walk? I swing my arms back and forth, convinced I look stupid.

Even the trees seem to be watching me, their branches curling ever so slightly, as if leaning in.

As I walk past a couple of teenagers, I hear them laughing at me, and I begin to regret ever leaving my house. The comfort of my bed, which wraps around my soul like a cozy cloud. The books on my shelf that keep me company. I wish somebody would notice me, ask me how I'm doing. But whenever someone asks, I just say “fine” anyway, and they never question it. Why would anyone? And they don’t notice me the way I want them to. They don’t notice me like my bed or my books do - they’re just there, without judgment, without critical looks or disappointed eyes. They see the circles under my eyes. They say, “You look tired today.”

I walk up to the bathroom. What time is it? I don’t know, but the sun is shining through the small window in the bathroom. I feel tired and heavy, like I’ve been partying all night, but in fact I've never touched a drop of alcohol in my life. I walk to the fridge to get some ice cream, but then I remember. I forgot it at the store. The embarrassment washes over my entire body, and I think to myself that I could never show my face at that store again. I begin thinking of what store to visit instead, but the options are beginning to run low. I remember the cashiers eyes when she was looking at me, probably wondering why my face was so red or why my hands were shaking. I open the fridge, and to my surprise, the ice cream is there. Vanilla-peanut butter, my favorite. I open the cabinet and grab a spoon, and open the ice cream. I hear laughter, almost as if the ice cream is laughing at me. It calls me fat and stupid, so I throw it in the trash.

I go to wash my face with some cold water. The circles under my eyes are getting darker. My eyes are puffy and teary. But it doesn’t matter. I desperately try to cover it up when I feel myself sinking to the floor and disappearing down the drain. I reappear in a place I have never seen before. It smells like lavender and something sweet, like the memory of a childhood I’m not sure I ever had. I feel weightless, like gravity has loosened its grip. I see a bright pink sky, and feel the grass beneath my feet. I feel calm and a sense of contentment.

Everything hums quietly here, like the world has been tuned to a softer frequency, and for once, I don't feel like I'm too quiet or too strange.

Until I hear a knock on the door. I walk up to the bathroom.

What time is it? It looks dark through the small window in the bathroom. I look in the mirror. The circles under my eyes are colorful, almost like a rainbow, shifting from red to blue to green to yellow. My eyes sparkle, and then suddenly it starts to rain. The entire bathroom fills with water, and an alarm keeps ringing louder and louder. With the water rising, I begin to panic and start pounding on the door. I wake up with bruises on my hands.

I walk up from my bed to open the blinds in my bedroom and see a bright pink sky. I have a sudden feeling that I should walk outside. Standing outside my door, a mirror appears. I look in the mirror, and all I can see is a rainbow, as bright and as colorful that you almost can't look at it. I feel the same sense of contentment and my eyes are beginning to tear up a bit. It's like a release, like something heavy being lift of my chest that I did not even know I had. Is this what it feels like? Is this how everyone else sees the world? It is quite beautiful. I open the window just a crack. Let a few raindrops fall onto my hands.

It feels like something is being washed away. Not everything. Just the outermost layers. Fear. Self-loathing. I stand there for a moment, still, with the rain whispering against my skin. The scent of the rain mixes with something gentle, like chamomile tea or fresh linen. Something familiar. And there, in that stillness, it happens. I smile.

I forgot what it's like, to feel something that is not a suffocating feeling. It’s small, barely there, but it’s real. And for the moment, that’s enough. The world is still the same, but I’m starting to believe I might not always feel this way.