It was a few days before the first day of Move-In started that I got a phone call from the school again, the call was from my advisor talking to me about how I’m going to be getting to the school, according to her they actually have shuttles for people who live close to the school which was as just as confusing as it was a very deep relief, but I mean…what other options do I have?

Because of that new set of bedding, I had to pack that entirely in a different suitcase so with everything I had packed I ended up using the entire luggage set, I had found an old collection of sketchbooks when I was packing, it was…strange and familiar seeing my older drawings, there were all sorts of pictures I drew of space, my own mapped out constellations I learned from books, pastel drawn planets and all sorts of more abstract drawings that had to do with space; turning meteors and planets into gowns, turning stars into people’s faces, I set the finished ones on the dresser before finishing up. I had all of the suitcases by my bedroom’s door, save for the one I had all of my clothing in because of the fact I still want to be able to change my clothes and bathe because of the fact I of course needed to pack toiletries and things. I was just out running some errands, getting the last few things I need to get before leaving, as I was walking through the aisles of the convenience store’s aisles, I heard some…familiar voices. I looked over and down the aisle to my right to see a few old friends from high school turning the corner, a year behind me in school, but the moment they noticed me, one of them held her arms out stopping the others who looked at me like they’ve seen a ghost walking in front of them.

“Evening, Bethany” I said as I went through a few things along the shelves, still dressed in a hoodie despite the fact it was summer, “Alex, Jane and Braydon” I added

“Oh…Kain” the girl who held her arm out, “We…we heard that…something like happened to you and you had like…vanished.”

“I’m leaving next week for school” I said as I tossed a few things into my basket, “I know the teachers are still talking about me, no?” I added, I actually hate people talking about me: I like being in the background, I like being invisible and I cannot stand the idea of being in the spotlight or masses of attention being on me. Obviously, because my mother was murdered and we’re in a rather small town it was not only the talk of the town, but all of California was going crazy because of how my mother was murdered.

“Yeah…they are” she said, I rolled my eyes a little as I turned

“I won’t be back for a long, long time…school and all.” I added, people like avoiding me because of the fact that my love of being invisible makes me just…my natural state is fairly standoffish and rather blunt, plus chronic resting bitch face makes people avoid me like crazy. I paid for my things, wincing probably visibly at the total as I paid and got my things before just throwing it in the backpack I use just as a regular bag as I walked out of the shop, pushing my hands in my pockets as I looked down and kept walking, grabbing my bike as I started back towards the apartment. I kept my eyes low as my bike rattled down the ghostly roads leading towards the apartment, my thoughts trailing off as I thought about how nobody really cares or understands how I feel, how people just act like they care or understand me…but they don’t, nobody understands me…I don’t even understand me. How could anyone truly understand what I’m going through? How can anyone understand me? Why do people feel the need to act like they can even act like they understand me when they have no idea what it’s like to be me? There maybe one or two other people in my high school who also worked jobs, but they worked seasonal jobs like working at the shipping yard during the holiday season whereas I was working two full-time jobs throughout my time in high school so Dad and I could afford to eat dinner, I was having to use any free time I possibly had studying just so that I wasn’t failing so that I wouldn’t be put in summer-school because in my mind, if I was in summer-school that was wasted time I could have been using working. There were days where I would actually skip school to take extra shifts, I would work graveyard shifts then go to school and the moment after school I’d rush off to work and I wouldn’t get back to the apartment till upwards of four in the morning where I’d have enough time to bathe and get two-three hours of sleep before getting back to school.

Nobody can understand me and I understand that, nobody will ever truly be able to understand the trauma, the depression, the anxiety amongst…everything else I have ever gone through…and I have come to terms with that. I had to become an adult at thirteen when I learned how far I had to lie about my age to be able to get a job. This is my life and nobody’s going to be able to stand there beside me, fully knowing what it is like to be me…and I have come to terms with that for a long…long time.