June drove out into the desert and parked her car under the stars. June didn’t know what she wanted. The idea of going to school scared her to no end. High school had ended poorly for her. The only good thing she remembered was Mercury.
You have to live in that body. His voice would often echo over and over again in her mind whenever she made terrible decisions. She had ruined her body. It was a thing that had no value now; something to be gawked and whistled at, but never respected.
June took out a cigarette as she sat on the hood of her car.
She closed her eyes with an intense frown and then flicked her cigarette away.
June let her mind wnader as she gazed up at the starry night sky, wondering what her life could be if she had dreams; she never had any serious prospects in her life like some of the kids in high school did. She never found that she liked or was really, truly amazing at anything, good grades be damned.
There was art, like Ben had mentioned on the phone. Sometimes, when June was alone, she would find her colored pencils and just start drawing. Some of her work she had shown to her therapist, and she had gazed at it, finding it to be mesmerizingly fascinating and beautiful.
Some of June’s art was happy. It depicted a young girl of Spanish descent (like June herself) in a princess gown up in space, ruling over adoring subjects. The colors used were yellows, pinks, and blues. Some of her other art depicted a young girl being jeered at in a crowd or being raped. Those were red, black, and green colors.
Her art was minimalistic, and her therapist described it as raw and emotional. June didn’t think it was very good, and she certainly didn’t like making it most of the time. But, when her therapist asked June why she made it at all, June could only reply, “I can’t… I have these feelings that can’t be contained or shared. I can express them to myself visually, though.”
June's mind drifted from art to working after that as she took in a deep breath--enjoying the scent of the desert in her nose. June badly wanted to work full-time at a job where she would be valued for more than her works, but everywhere she had tried to apply to rejected her. June could never work full-time anyway, even if she manged to get a degree and the job she wanted. Whenever she began to think about working, it frayed her nerves, and the only thing that could quell them were substances.
She drove home after an hour and went back to sleep.
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