That's Every Day For Me

• Nicholas Pizzolato, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2018

Have you ever felt as if every step you take is hollow, every word you speak meaningless? As if you’re not really there, just floating through each day, void of any meaning or substance? That’s every day for me.
I wake up at 7:00AM each morning and lay there, wishing the world was different from how it is now. I get up sometime after 7:30AM, and drag my hollow feet across the hollow ground, wishing I could return to the comfort of the bed I had three minutes ago, a simpler time. I get in the shower, and turn on the water, trying to bring some feeling to my void existence. I get out of the shower, and slowly dry myself off and get dressed into the boring uniform I wear each day. I go to the kitchen and make a coffee, trying to bring some energy into my empty battery of a body. As I do, I long for the warm embrace of the shower I had ten minutes ago, an easier time. I drink my dull coffee and eat my dull breakfast, I pack my heavy bag with my meaningless books and walk out the pale door. Within minutes I’m on a tight, cold bus that’s full but feels lifeless, longing for the tasty food, warm bed, hot showers and inviting hospitality of home I had an hour ago, a safer time. That’s every day for me.
I go through the drearily dull classes, one at a time, not even trying to find anything that captivates my attention, as I already know nothing will. I get to lunch and eat more dull food, standing on my phone, surrounded silently by people I tolerate, conversation is a trying experience. Standing in my cold, exposed corner of the world, I long for the warmth and knowledge of the classroom of not too long ago, a more interesting time. Eventually, I am on that tight, cold bus, beginning the evidently endless transfer. It is here, on the drab bus seat that I long for school, for the friends and food and ideas I so commonly reject, a happier time. That’s every day for me.
The bus reaches its final destination and I take a few hollow steps into the unforgiving, dispassionately cruel world. I trail my heavy legs through the cold, dead grass, barely even noticing the harsh brutality of the pouring rain as I carry myself home. It is here that I long for the heat and shelter that big, encumbering bus provided, a… warmer time. Finally, after what felt like a freezing, dreary millennium, I step through that pale front door of home. I spend my night doing nothing, eating more dull food, and then heading immediately to the safety of my room. It is here, in my cold bed that I long for the rest of my day. The food, the friends, the family, even the walking through the rain, a better time. That’s every day for me.