The next day passed by much like yesterday. We had our frequent arguments about things that I honestly don't believe any of us really cared much about. Arguments which in the grand scheme of things would probably go by forgotten, but they still proved to be fun times.
During math Dawn regularly scoffed at mine and Sadim's incompetence, something which least to say irked us both. Snarky comments such as: "Were you sleeping in class last year? How can you not understand something so fundamental?'' tested our patience, to say the least. But in the end, she did help us so we didn't argue back; especially since her statements did carry some truth.
But later on in the day, during history, I tried getting back at her; with mixed results. Every time I would try and get under her skin for not knowing something basic she would close herself off in a shell of indifference. She would say half-assed comments about how history was in the past and that you should focus on the present instead, statements I seriously doubted even she believed.
In one instance she almost started arguing with the teacher once more about their very subject, most likely due to my teasing - so I decided to take it down a notch. Surprisingly, by the end of the lesson, she seemed somewhat interested, but if I were to have asked her she would've most likely denied my thoughts.
And before I knew it another day had passed. Dawn once more departed from us just outside the school to get her bike and I and Sadim walked together to his station, thankfully there was no need for anyone to chase after a bus this time around.
Then I was left by myself. I was expecting the barrage of today to finally hit me now and make me want nothing more than to head home and sleep, just like yesterday, but surprisingly enough it didn't. I did want to head home quickly though, but not because I was tired. Instead, I felt there was a lot more I wanted to do once I got home. So with speed, I headed towards my subway station.
Once home I inspected the new contents of my refrigerator and then began searching around for different recipes and videos for ideas. Before I knew it, the late evening had approached. In the end, I just roasted some basic steak with boiled potatoes, accompanied by a sweet barbeque sauce which I'd found a recipe for.
The steak turned out a little dry and the potatoes were a bit too hard, but the sauce was great. For once, I sat on one of the three high chairs by the kitchen counter, instead of the regular dining location of my sofa. It was nice, for some reason I felt that just sitting here instead made me appreciate the meal more, especially since I'd put about an hour behind making it. Taking the proper time to enjoy it instead of just watching something while I ate made it feel less like just some provision, rather, the food became the point of focus.
Still, the non-perfect shape of the meal, I bet that if Dawn was here she would've used it to once more crusade her radical ideas. It made me chuckle. I could imagine her dramatically explaining how eating it while watching Netflix was the way to go and that's why premade food was superior, or something…
The fact that I could imagine her being here and doing these things made me feel a little less lonely in this big empty space. That I knew enough about her in order to fantasize about such possibilities in the short actual time that I'd known her also told me much about her character, but I did wonder about the truth of it. How much of my image of her was accurate? I myself know awfully well how much people can change depending on their surroundings. I know of the multiple faces which one wears and of the horrible feeling that your true self will never be able to fully emerge.
There's a lot I don't know about Dawn, that much is a fact. I still cannot comprehend why she chooses to hang out with me after our catastrophic first meeting, and a part of me fears something devious hiding behind it. Meanwhile, I also don't understand her uncaring attitude towards people's impressions of her, and the answer she gave: "It won't matter" just leaves me with more questions. But there is one thing I know: I do want to know more about her. I want to try and find some answers, that much I'm certain of.
But, I'm scared... A part of me constantly screams not to get too close, or I will get burned. I tell that part of me that this time it's different, what happened in the past is the past, yet it refuses to believe me, and I fear that it never will.
As I sit by the kitchen counter I put a pause to my eating and gaze around this space. There's no real decoration or anything anywhere, there are some pictures here and there, but they weren't put up by me, they were here when I first arrived. None of the furniture has any dents in them, no marks to remind one of any past incidents. A cleaner comes once every week, so there's no dirt to speak of or any other signs of a human being actually living here.
It feels like one of those places you would see while exploring IKEA, almost like a dollhouse. So it should come as no surprise then that this apartment has never felt like a home to me, it has always just been the place I've slept and eaten. Yet, at least, because of these last few days, somehow this place's loneliness has become less apparent.
***
After finishing my meal I washed the dreaded dishes and then watched a bit of TV before heading to the bathroom. I was simply going to brush my teeth, but I paused before squirting out the toothpaste onto my brush. I gazed into the bathroom mirror, my reflection having caught my eye. "My hair looks… really unkempt," I said to the reflection. "Did I really go to school like this?" I stared at the person in the mirror.
My hair is black in color, naturally straight. It's rather long as well, not down to my shoulders or anything, but if I let it fall completely then it basically covers my eyes. I've also got a bit of a beard, but it's not intentional. The hair which has grown around my mouth isn't something I've shaped or planned, it's just the result of me neglecting shaving for about a month.
The more closely I look at my reflection the more I start to hesitate to continue doing so. As I look closer I start to see more and more small things that bother me. I notice a lot of red dots around my face, pimples. It's not that bad compared to other people I've seen, or at least I don't think so, but for every single one of those small bumps on my skin, I feel a sense of dread growing. I smile lightly into the mirror, my teeth are uneven and have a dry whiteness to them like old paint, but what really bothers me is this smile. It looks so terribly forced, I hate it. As I continue noticing all of these small problems and they start piling up, a question has begun echoing in my mind. For some reason, my eyes won't look away from the mirror, as if they're observing something unknown.
"Is this really me?" It bounces back and forth within my mind. I wonder who it is looking back at me in the glass.
For the last two years, people's perception of me hasn't really been something I thought about. It's not like I wanted to stand out, I didn't care about people whispering behind my back, but I just thought it would be an unnecessary pain to deal with. So instead I secluded myself. I barely talked to anyone and just moved on from day-to-day. Everything slowly mixed together into the melting pot that was my life, and before I knew it my body seemed like nothing more than a puppet; acting like a human should, talking like one should, breathing like one should, but in the end, I knew - there was no heart. That's why when I stopped thinking about how other people saw me, at the same time I stopped seeing myself. So as I am faced with this reflection supposedly representing me, I'm terrified. The one staring back at me, I don't recognize them as myself, it's like I've swapped bodies with a stranger and only now realized it.
Any moment now it feels as if my reflection could gain its own sentience and start acting of its own accord, yet while still disguised as me.
To suddenly care about how I was perceived was a scary thing. As if suddenly realizing you want to live when on a suicide mission…
But while deep in these thoughts, I realized that I'd finally managed to avert my gaze from the reflection. I took a deep sigh, looking down at my hands still holding the brush and toothpaste.
For some reason, I now cared about how others saw me and apparently, I wasn't happy with myself currently. So, I wanted to change. I could only think of one clear reason as to why this was...
With a quick movement my head jolted up again and before I knew it my eyes were back to staring down at the reflection in the mirror, but this time my view didn't wander. I looked the stranger, no, myself in the eyes and spoke: "I want to change"
I felt a little embarrassed saying that like this by myself, like one of those motivational videos, but just saying it felt oddly soothing. Then I finally got to brush my teeth.