Don't ask me how it happened; I am still confused about it too. However, at the time it occurred, I wasn't just confused - I was angry to the point of wanting to blow up the school. The only reason I didn't go through with it was a lack of money to buy explosives, and perhaps a sliver of common sense.
My classmates and teachers were in the same boat; it seemed none of them noticed that someone had pressed the "rewind" button, sending us back to the previous year. One of the first things I did was check the date, and indeed, time had miraculously skipped forward. There were no traces of last year on the internet, in my notebooks, or journals. Even my assignment papers had vanished, as if they had never existed. Naturally, my high school diploma was also gone.
I had no tangible proof to show anyone, and even if I did, no one would listen to me anyway. And if, by some miracle, they did listen, they would probably dismiss me as insane and delusional. Worst of all, I couldn't even convince myself of my own sanity.
Meanwhile, I couldn't bear another year at that school, surrounded by the same people. I knew I had to escape, so I decided to leave town. I suspected it would be challenging for someone like me to find a job, especially without a high school diploma, but I was willing to try my luck. Maybe this strange predicament was connected to the city, and starting a new life elsewhere could bring back normality.
I didn't have to worry about my parents looking for me; after a day or two, they would likely forget about my existence. I took some cash from my mother's wallet, packed my few belongings, and headed to the inter-city bus station. I didn't care which direction I went; I just wanted to get as far away as possible.
I chose the farthest destination available and soon found myself comfortably seated by the window. Part of me felt like choosing to leave was a way of giving up completely. Throughout the years, I had clung to hope, hoping to change my luck, to make my parents acknowledge my existence, or to find a friend who wouldn't meet a tragic end. I didn't think I was asking for too much. But it seemed impossible; every attempt left me feeling more hopeless.
Once we had an assignment to write about our future selves, and I was stumped. I had no idea who I wanted to be, and the mere thought gave me a headache. Besides trying to identify the "newbies" in school, I had no hobbies, which consumed a lot of my time. I had no particular talents or abilities; I was average in all subjects, which I guess could be considered a talent in itself. I watched movies, but their plots slipped from my memory as soon as the credits rolled. My taste in music was diverse, and I couldn't name a single book I had read, despite having read quite a lot.
As a child, I had passions, but after Brian's death, I gradually lost interest in those childish pursuits. I couldn't even figure out who I wanted to be because I didn't know who I was in the first place. Perhaps that's why people found me so forgettable.
I ended up not submitting the essay at all, yet somehow I still received a mediocre grade for it. I pondered what the most average job in the world would be, thinking it might be the one I should pursue.
Contemplation made me drowsy, and I dozed off. I woke up when the driver announced the bus had reached its final destination. It was dark outside, with only distant streetlights visible. Nonetheless, I happily disembarked, eager to breathe in the fresh air of a new place.
I took out my phone and turned on the navigation. Earlier, I had booked a motel within walking distance from the station. Strangely, my maps application seemed to glitch, displaying a travel time of "7 hours 21 minutes" instead of the expected "12 minutes." I refreshed continuously but to no avail.
Annoyed, I decided to head towards the busier part of town and ask passersby for directions. As I approached the well-lit area, a sense of unease washed over me. The place looked eerily familiar, and I mean identical to the town I had originally come from. Hoping small towns merely shared similarities, I continued walking until my legs led me to my old high school.
That was the moment I could no longer deny the truth. After several hours on a bus, I had arrived at the same place. Could I have slept through an announcement about the bus turning back? That was a possibility, but given my life and circumstances, it seemed highly implausible.
Nonetheless, I resolved to try again the next day, and the next, and the next. Each time, I would inevitably fall asleep, regardless of the journey's length. Even when I recorded several trips from start to finish on my phone, the recordings malfunctioned without fail.
Desperation drove me to register on a conspiracy theory forum and ask if anyone had managed to escape my town. However, my topic was deleted within seconds, and I was locked out of my account, unable to access the forum anymore.
I contemplated posting the question on my regular social media accounts, but I had no followers or friends to provide any meaningful help. With dwindling ideas, I resorted to searching for famous people from my town to see if they had successfully ventured beyond its borders. To my frustration and confusion, I found a few photos of them in different locations. It seemed clear that the problem lay with me.
Finally, I decided to try walking. Surely, if I walked, I wouldn't fall asleep. The next morning, armed with water, crackers, and a printed map, I embarked on my journey. The autumn day was crisp, making the long hike more bearable than it would have been in the scorching summer or freezing winter. My legs began to ache after a few hours, but I pushed through. By day's end, I felt hungry and thirsty, so my plan was to find the nearest gas station after finally crossing the town's borders.
According to the map, I wasn't far away. However, within an hour, I saw a sign welcoming me to the neighboring town. Overjoyed, I ran toward it, ignoring the dull pain in my legs. I had made it across the border! I was out! I was free!
Yet, my euphoria lasted a mere hour. As I reached the first gas station, I realized it was the exact same one where I had purchased my crackers that morning. The cashier behind the counter was the same person, leaving no room for doubt.
I couldn't help but burst into laughter. I stood there, at an old, stinky gas station, in the dead of night, laughing hysterically, while the cashier in his dirty uniform acted as if I didn't exist.
I ended up falling asleep right on the street that night. I didn't have the strength to walk back home, and the buses had stopped running. For the next couple of days, I found myself aimlessly wandering the streets. I truly didn't want to return to my so-called regular life, but it seemed that my other choice was not to have any life at all. Besides, my funds were running low, and I still didn't want to resort to stealing.
Therefore, I abandoned my seemingly futile escapades and reluctantly returned home. Despite my concerns, my parents hadn't forgotten about me. Although they hardly noticed my absence, it was strange that my mother asked where I had been that night.
"I tried to run away to a different city, but no matter how far I walked, I couldn't escape this town," I replied, somewhat intrigued by her reaction.
"Oh, please call next time," my mother absent-mindedly responded.
I suppose I could have told her that I had gone out to shoot people while high on drugs, and her response would have been the same. As usual, I was slightly disappointed but not surprised.
The following day, I went to school, half expecting my teachers to question my identity. However, it appeared that no one had noticed my prolonged absence. I even received a grade for a test I hadn't taken. Looking at the test paper filled out in my handwriting made me sick to my stomach, so I just threw it in the garbage.
I didn't even know why I was still there. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that I had already finished school, that everything happening to me was absurd. However, in the end, I swallowed my anger. I had nowhere else to go. Correction - no matter where I went, I would inevitably end up back here. So, was there any point in fighting against the inescapable?