Constellations

Andromeda, Scorpius, Orion. I trace my finger in the air, mapping out the constellations. Following the trails of plastic stars I taped to my ceiling at the beginning of freshman year. The only reason that I was ever able to fall asleep.

But I’m not asleep right now. Wide awake, but not because of some stupid math test. I wish. I never thought I would hate work as much as I hated school. But I do.

I roll over and stare at my chair in the corner. I used to throw my skates over the side, now all I see is the outline of a blouse. Those skates are tucked away in a box somewhere. Stuck in the back of my closet, hidden, like the rest of the broken dreams that I left behind over the years.

I turn back around to look at the clock. 4:43. Perfect. 2 more minutes to lay here pretending to be rested before I get to go get ready for a day of hell. Even though I’m already awake, I still barely manage to roll out of bed when it goes off.

I stumble down the stairs and put the coffee on. I hear my mother’s voice in my head telling me that that coffee is bad for you, and for a second I almost go to turn it off. But I don’t. She’s dead anyway.

I heat up my breakfast and get changed. Same cereal as yesterday, same blazer as the day before. Same house that I have spent everyday of my life in. Same breeze that slips under the cracks of the back door. Same everything.

I almost finish shutting the door behind me when I realize my laptop is missing. I run back upstairs to get it, careful not to drop the one thing that I still care about in this dreary town. I used to dream about getting out of here, being some big crazy journalist for the New York Times. Then again, I also used to dream about roller skating on the moon. And growing up.

I start the car, and shutter. I also used to dream about a car with heat.

As I drive along the only freeway I’ve ever been on, nearly deserted, I start to zone out. I turn on the radio, and half listen to some random person discuss the ending to some big reality show. I used to love those, until I realized they weren’t real. I almost miss it.

I’m completely zoned out now. But I don’t care. At this point it’s just part of the routine.

At first, I didn’t even notice the wheel. But as soon as I looked down I noticed it was spinning. I snapped back into it, but everything was moving in slow motion. I saw the edge for only a second before I got launched forward.

My eyes came back into focus. I could feel the soft grass beneath me, still wet from the early morning dew. The road was nearly out of sight, and the car was gone. I wasn’t in pain. I figured that must be a relief.

But when I looked down all I saw was red. Of course I couldn’t feel any pain. I couldn’t feel anything. I refused to rest my head back down. This couldn’t just be it. I wouldn’t allow that. I did not do all of this to end up here. I must have more to do. This can’t be it.

But as I look down at my mess of a body, I know it is. I lay my head back down. What I wouldn’t give to be able to grow up now. And as my mind fades to black, I raise my finger, pointed up into the dark of night. I trace with my finger. Andromeda, Scorpius, Orion.