things that happened today vol 2
in religion class today, we talked about a lot of inconsequential things, like the importance of being kind to others, as well as expectations of a catholic graduate. listening to monsieur talk is like an unskippable cutscene in a video game, and i find myself wanting to run out of the classroom desperately to escape. that's not to say what he's saying isn't important—it most definitely is. he just angers me, and i haven't the faintest clue as to why. it's always "blah blah blah, go to church! happiness is a choice you make!" all the time.
if happiness was truly a choice, surely everybody in the world would be happy, right? if i was presented with two buttons; the button on the left meaning to ensure my suffering forever, and the right meaning to take it all away and live happily, i would press the left button without question. do you know many people that, when drowning, purposefully sink themselves deeper? or when digging themselves in a hole, only want to continue going down until rock bottom is above their head? a happy world hardly seems realistic, and i wouldn't die for the sake of that either. seems boring.
and is it truly my fault if i don't want to go to a place that reminds me of the panic attacks and catatonic breakdowns i would have there? once my delusional brain decided that the only explanation for my being "like that" as it were, was that my very existence was forsaken by god especially, church felt overwhelming. just the very weight of how singled out i felt amongst all these "normal people" was enough to make me want to barf. i would ask to be dismissed to go to the bathroom; when i did, i would sob uncontrollably.
eventually, quite worried, the teacher would check in on me. from outside, she would ask if i was okay, her voice reverberating in the small bathroom. evidently, i couldn't even my voice enough nor stop weeping to stop her pressing worries. i walked out of the stall silently, with the gait of a convicted criminal approaching the guillotine, and i suddenly hugged her. i shivered and repeated over and over, just below a shout, "i don't want to go to hell, i don't want to go to hell, i don't want to go to hell!" i don't remember what she did after this, so i suppose it doesn't matter. i don't have a lot of positive memories associated with church. regardless of my faith, you can't blame me for not going, right? i'm doing just fine.
we watched a magician in the auditorium during third period. i've actually had few opportunities to see magic before my eyes like that before, so it was interesting. i had a huge birthday once. i'm telling a lot of stories today, sorry. anyway, it was a glaring summer day; the type of day when the sky was coated with pallid blue and the grass was a vibrant green. the house seemed bigger than how it is now, but all of my cousins and their cousins and their cousins were about the same height as i was. i remember the tall apple tree, the balloons suspended in midair, the running, the laughter, the dresses flowing in the wind.
while they were setting everything up early in the morning, they told me that i mustn't look at the backyard for undisclosed reasons, as they were planning something "special," that evidently had no relations with my birthday whatsoever. i, an absolute sombre wet blanket of a seven-year-old child, knew they were planning my birthday no matter how much they tried to conceal their excitement.
anyway, the magician. in the living room, i stood up tall towards the conglomerate of children in rows on the floor. i was the birthday girl, after all. who else would go up but myself? they were all looking up at me with expectant eyes, and i felt important. the magician told me to extend my arm out to the side, and i did. with a wave of his hand, a large puff of smoke appeared, i flinched, and forthwith, a great white bird clawing into my flesh. there was an uproar of clapping and amazed gasps from my small audience, and the bird stared at me—just a few centimetres from my face—with empty eyes like bullet holes. i stared with my bullet holes back.
i never got that close to a bird before. have you ever tried to befriend a bird out in the wild? they don't take too kindly to that. most of the time they'll just run away, sometimes they'll perceive you as a threat and attack you. i could discern each groove in its wings, the empty look in its eyes, and the jagged talons sinking into me until it hurt. after this, each time i looked at the mark on my arm the bird left behind, i would think of it, then the magician, then everyone looking at me, and all the fun i had.