Exhaustion

It's kinda hard, at night, to see their faces as I try to fall asleep. To see their eyebrows knitted in disappointment, arms folded across their chests. The words that leak out of their frowns sometimes hurt me more than the bruises or scraches I've been getting lately. Things like "What happened to you, Danny?" and the whispers and mutters between the silences echo through my mind as I close my eyes. This happened to me, I'd whisper as I rest my head against my pillow, the surface cold and unwelcoming, not warm like it used to be. I'm almost waiting for a blue puff of icyness the shiver its way up my throat; but tonight must be one of the rare nights where it doesn't arrive, doesn't leave me sleepless until I have to get ready for school the next day. I know that everyone must see the dark bags that hang under my eyes during class… when I get home past curfew. That's where it all starts. The talks. The disappointment…

The guilt.

It follows me as I head into the shower, the wounds on my back a reminder of why this all had occurred. One event would lead down into another in sequence, all leading up into the moment I's set my very foot into the lab about two months ago. Why did I even bother?

I've been asking myself that question nowdays. Why exactly did I bother, it wasn't like people cared or anything. Each day I'm forced to watch my parent's glares as they fire at me from below… and as I stare up a the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, I know that's the barrier that's keeping my final descision at bay. I wasn't going to tell them… yet. Some day I would, though.

…If I could. Every time I turn on my matress, burns crack deep beneath the suface of my skin. It's not easy to admit that the things I've been doing have left me exhausted, let alone wounded; sometimes badly. Lancer woke me up in the middle of English yesterday, muttering about rewards. I hardly noticed I'd dozed off. Got in trouble with him for it. My school career was over, there was no doubt about that… I could kiss my dream of working for NASA goobye forever. My grades were so far in the toilet that it was clogged, and nobody could call a plumber to fix it.

And to make things worse, we have the CATs next spring, which finally determine… well, my future. I try not to think about it too much. When I did, a sting of stress would course through my body, leaving me with horrendous images of the Nasty Burger in my mind. Lancer says that's where I'll end up if I don't try hard enough. That's all he'll blabber on about as I leave detention; which I have been getting alot these days. And I'll tell him I'm trying, and I really am...

It's left me with a lot of regrets, this new style of life, the decisions I'm making. Regrets of hoping, of dreaming, of even having the slightest of notions in my thoughts that I'll make it. I regret these decisions of putting those I know and love in danger.

It gets me thinking of Mom and Dad, how glares will adorn their features as they face me in my glowing form, accompanying the whir of the weapons in their arms. It's kinda weird, how the people who care for me will loathe me in my counterparting form, and those who do not adore me. It's like flipping everything around. At the end of the day I'll try to laugh about it, shrug it off as Sam or Tuck will pry me with endless questions. It doesn't work.

And through all this questioning, regret, and guilt, I'm left; filled with exhaustion as I succumb to dreams of endless stars before I'll wake up to the new world.

Uh... yeah. I tried a little bit of freewriting/drabbling and this is what came out. Blaarg. Tell me watcha think.

-Juni