To Serenity

Serenity,

Before you came into my life, I thought I only had one purpose. A single purpose that meant that only the worst wanted me, that I was hardly useful and that I’d be in the shadows forever. I was forever surrounded by this haze of black that constantly threatened to get in my head and take over the last control I had of myself before I finally succumbed to darkness. I’d already lost this thing called “feeling,” and I didn’t have much more. Maybe I had those useless facts that my teachers taught me in elementary school, a few facts about science and the dinosaurs, but I think I only had control of my own body and the control to tell myself “no” at times.

I remember that first day that you came into the classroom, this transfer student that everyone was hyped up about. Hermage High School didn’t get many transfers, you know, and you were the first in about 10 years of history. It was a rare occurance; everyone wanted to get to know you. You were instantly swarmed by the cool kids: the girls that plastered on a pound of makeup each morning to look “pretty,” and the guys were all dying to try to hook themselves up with you. I remember not caring. I didn’t care that you were coming, I didn’t care that everyone was throwing themselves at you, begging you to join their cliques. I didn’t have a clique; no one cared about me other than my insane accuracy in baseball pitching and my throws in football. I can’t imagine anyone actually choosing me for being myself for anything, really.

And then there was you. You were the exact opposite of me. Dying to get on everyone’s good side, you’d constantly compliment everyone in your line of vision and apologize anytime someone said something about you that wasn’t good. Even if was a simple “You want to hang out with us?” you’d instantly find something to apologize for. Even on your first day. I remember thinking man, what a pussy, and then ignoring you every day in homeroom. Even when you turned out to be in half of my classes, I’d simply roll my eyes every time I heard your goddamn sorry.

I don’t remember when it started to change. Maybe it was during that English project that Mrs. Connery gave to us. Goddamn that project, remember that? Worst thing I’ve done throughout all of high school so far. Maybe it was when you asked to borrow a pencil and then apologized when I gave you a pen. I probably rolled my eyes at that one too, but your eyes were so low to the ground, you probably didn’t notice. Maybe it was when you came to sit at my table during lunch. I don’t remember why or how I started to feel like this around you. It’s very confusing, you know? I thought I’d lost all sense of this thing called “feelings,” and then suddenly your steadfast presence turns it around. I guess I’m thankful, though. Maybe I’ll be living a whole life now, all thanks to you.

-Faolan