Glorification Of A New Life

• Lucas Shelley, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2022

Every day was the same. At 7 am, I woke up. My eyes wandered around the room, adjusting to the light seeping through the gap in my window. After slowly eating my breakfast, I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I got changed and headed to school. Once 6 hours of pretending to be engaged was over, I made my way home. I ate everything in sight. I forced myself to burn it off. Had a shower. Ate dinner. Went to sleep. Then did it all again.

It was fun at first, having a routine to stick to. It gave me a sense of organization and order in such a crazy and unprecedented time. I had moved far away from everything I knew; my friends, my family, my home. It was so unexpected. The thought of a whole new amazing life with lots of friends fogged my vision of what was really happening; I was losing everything. I needed a reality check.

The next thing I know, I’m in beautiful Sunshine Valley, where everything was meant to be better. A better life, better friends, better school. Better mental health. That wasn’t the case for me. I was alone. Instead of being opened up to an unlimited amount of opportunities, all mine closed. And so once again, I was waking up for another excruciating day of putting on a smile.

My eyes opened. I looked at my clock; in bright red dashes, it spelt out 9:05. I was late. Usually a late day was a sign that school was going to be even worse than normal, which sent me jumping out of bed, trying my hardest to get there on time. However this particular day was different. I felt as if there was a heavy weight on top of me, stopping me from getting out of bed. I had no motivation at all to get out of my warm, comfy safe space. So, for the first time ever, I rolled over, ignoring my clock.

That was only the start. Days came when I didn’t even go to school. I didn’t shower. I could feel the muck in my mouth from not brushing my teeth. I spent weeks on end rotting inside my bedroom, never opening my curtains. My mum would come into my room every morning, begging me to get out of bed, but I just rolled my eyes and went back to sleep. Even though I felt disgusted about what was happening to me, I couldn’t stop. My life turning into a mess was inevitable, so why try to stop it?

Bloodshot eyes looked back at me through the bathroom mirror. Layers of grease smothered my hair, making it straight and dull instead of my usual blonde, curly locs. My cheeks looked hollow from the anxiety which stopped me from eating. The person looking back at me was a monster, created by unspoken feelings and thoughts.

I couldn’t keep going like this.

Some stories don’t have a happy ending.