Wallflower

The effusive droplets of mellow, balmy rain tap gently against my fixed, casement frosted window. I catch my eye on a crack, spreading out like spiders legs at the corner of my eucalyptus wooden window frame, leaking out beads of cold, dust coated water. The leak bleeds out like blood, the water seems thick, abnormal.

I push my face closer, hesitantly, and notice an autumn carmine red ink flowing through the water following like open blood vessels, something like a haemorrhage. It felt like only yesterday that I experienced a moment something like this, a perplexing perception and notice to non-existent detail, in the quiet, alone. It felt so comforting to hold myself in my arms and aside from the worry of these delusions being real it was a relief to have such personal solace. As I exhaled I noticed a cold, agonisingly nerving  fog drifting up to the point of my nose. 

I let out an open sigh as I made my way to my coarsely white painted door and twisted the platinum black door knob so to open the door. A sudden cool breeze hit my face, I flinched and stepped backwards in an effort to fixate my nerves. I felt nervous and somewhat afraid of the night at which would soon follow.  My first party in 17 years, my entire 17 years of existence and it was going to be big, more people in crowds than I had ever even met in my small town in Cairns, Australia. 

My classmate, Izzy, invited me on what I can only assume was a  whim. I had been pondering for days why she would possibly exceed the awkward boundary of even talking to me, even more, inviting me to her party 2 and a half hours out of town!

I walked over to my left and began to sort through the torn pieces of fabric that the moths had clearly gotten to, I released a sigh as I  picked out the single blazer that I had, my dad’s, before he disappeared. The thick cotton fabric had been attempted to by the moths on the inside, thankfully, it was wearable. The torso was a dark beige colour, the collar was slightly darker and had a tint of stripe patterned navy. I picked out a pair of pleat front beige pants to go with it, they didn’t fit particularly well, they were also my dad’s and as I put them on gently I couldn’t help myself reliving the memories of him holding them up against him along with the variety of other pants and critiquing each one in his comical, somewhat animated manner as I laughed at him in  loud, bursting bounds of breathe.

I tip toed gently to my mothers closet, she was passed out on the bed, under the linen sheets  like all ways with a bottle of whiskey by her arms. Still, I couldn’t wake her for I worried she would grab the belt she seemed to sleep next to for going into her room. Usually, I wouldn’t dare but this was important. I flipped my fingers through her large collection of clumped and piled clothing. After what felt like ages I finally managed to grasp the top that I wanted. My mother use to be quite stylish, and had a large variety of different clothing and tops and pants in all different colours that would always  look particularly gorgeous on her slim physique.

 I picked out a brown, burnt umber polo shirt, it was loose on me but after I had tucked it into my cheviot pants and tightened the elastic of my waist band it looked half decent. After I put the blazer on, I observed myself in the grimy bathroom mirror to see that my hair was messy and oily as per usual. My house hadn’t had electricity, nor, running water for years so I found it difficult to maintain hygienic and sanitary like everyone else in my class. On special occasions though, I would use, sparingly, a faintly tropical scented dry shampoo that I had found in my mothers bathroom one time. The bottle was tarnished and rustic, and after using it 4 times annually for 7  years straight it was running low. I managed out a dribble and smudged it throughout my scalp, I brushed my hair backwards with my fingers and separated my short, chestnut brown hair into a side part as best as I could. I washed off my hands with raspberry scented hand sanitiser out the window into the dying rose bushes and dried them on a hand towel, that hadn’t been used for probably 13 years or so. I then, again, looked at myself in the mirror, I critiqued myself on my appearance at rapid speed in my head, my insecurities burst out in ripples throughout my mind, my teeth were slightly unaligned and tinted with flaxen yellow and my lips were so thin that the creases around it seems to take up more space on my face than both my hazel eyes combined. My jaw line was far too prominent and my cheek bones lifted so high so to made my face look long and sorrow-filled even when I would attempt at a smile. My backpack was the same as the one that I had had in 4^th grade, thankfully though, I was never much for cartoons so it was a dying grey colour. It was ripped but not deeply and had dirt stains everywhere. I looked over, in the midst of my thoughts to find that the time was 11 54 pm, my heart began to rush as I realised that Izzy and her friends were only 6 minutes away from picking me up. I flattened down some floating hairs and patted my face down in an attempt to wake myself up from what has to be a dream. 

Then, 11 56, a knock at the door. Light, gentle knocking. 3 knocks. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

Repetitive, rhythmic, perfect. 

I made my way to the front door, my legs felt, quite literally, like jelly. Stale, parched, splintering jelly that had been left in the sun to melt but defied what everyone would suspect in the most gross, unprecedented way.

I opened the door to the smiling face of Izzy. Her eyes had creases that lifted up the corner of her blue eyes to the tips of her ears. Her dimples were symmetrically located at the points of her smile. Her lips were full and luscious and her face reminded me of fresh tulip fields, gorgeous and beautiful. I could see her car in the driveway, and could tell that Max, Bella, Kaitlyn, Jessie and Tiarnach, some of her best friends were in there already.

“Hey Kian, are you ready to head off?” She questioned in a genuinely inquisitive and passionate manner. 

“Yeah….” I said hesitantly 

“…t..thank you for inviting me” I stuttered out in a shaking, nerving voice. 

“It’s no problem at all” she said confidently as she began to walk down the cement steps to the drive way. I followed behind her like a dog on lead, my head down and my hands tightly ahold of each other, desperately looking for some form of comfort. I hopped in the back seat of the car and aside from my fears of embarrassment and judgement I felt a sense of excitement and inspiration to start new in a way with new people. Little did I know that this moment would soon diminish and be replaced by one of the most incredible experiences I had had in my entire life and things got even better from then on. My worry and anxiety had always pulled me back in life but this day, the 28^th of March, 2021 was the day that I could overcome the persona that I had been given by my life’s  circumstances. I was no longer an enigma to the people around me, they could see me now and they wouldn’t dare blink for the person I became was someone no one would ever want to lose.