DECEMBER
It's snowing.
It wasn't snowing when he left. When he left it was September, almost Autumn. It's December now, and snow is falling. I've been awake for a couple of hours. Up from the my latest nightmare. Doesn't matter. Charlie doesn't even come in anymore when I scream. He hasn't come in for a couple of months. Hmm...
I am alone. I get dressed in regular school clothes. It's Monday, time to go to school. I go downstairs, Charlie is still taking a shower. I fix breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and toast. I don't eat anything. I'm not hungry anyway. I leave for school, Charlie can put his food on his plate by himself. He is not a child. Neither am I.
I stand outside on the porch. Gazing at the fresh snow. It barely started falling in the early morning, but everything is white now. I don't like it. The glare of the light reflected on the ice hurts my eyes. So I close them. I dig into my back pack and take out a pair of sunglasses. Ray Ban's. They were his. He forgot about them. It's the only thing I have left of him. I am alone, now. Only my memories continue. The streets are empty. It's still early. I walk to school. Two or three miles are not going to kill me. I don't really like my truck anymore. It reminds me of him. He didn't like it.
I don't like a lot of things nowadays. I don't like music. I don't like apples. I don't like school. I don't like biology class. I don't like my room. I don't like sleeping. I don't like friends. I don't like watching TV. I don't like noise. I don't like silence. I don't like Charlie. I don't like company. I hate being alone. I don't like pizza. I don't like Port Angeles. I don't like Italian food. I don't like walking. I don't like breathing. I don't like blood. I don't like the hospital. I don't like the school parking lot. I don't like nature. I don't like hiking. I don't like the trees. I don't like the wind. I don't like the sun. I specially don't like the sun. I don't like writing. I don't like water... As I said, they are a lot of things I don't like nowadays.
I walk into school. It's still empty. It will start to fill up in five minutes. I make my way to my classroom. I don't know which class I have. I can't remember. I'm sure I'll do fine. I always do. In the mean time, I take out a poetry book. Elliot. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. Figures. A poem about a loveless, undersexed middle-aged man. Read by a loveless, undersexed middle-aged teenage girl.
The poem serves it purpose. Nobody bothers me. School is letting out tomorrow. Christmas holidays. Two weeks with nothing to do. I hate people.
Like a patient etherised upon a table, indeed.
Classes continue. Lunch time. I sit at the regular table. Everyone ignores me. I try to eat an apple. I don't like it, so I don't eat. I should be hungry. I'm not. Don't want to feel. Angela looks at me. She is worried. I ignore her. Friendship causes pain. I don't need it. Mike laughs at something Eric said. I just stare at the wall. A clock ticks away by my ear. Tic, toc, tic, toc. The group laugh at a joke. I didn't hear it. I don't think I would find it funny anyway. Tyler comes and sits down. He puts both his arms around Mike and Ben's necks. He says something. They roll their eyes, but smile.
Lunch is over. Good.
Classes start, classes end. Time to go back to the house.
I walk back. Leave my backpack in the front room. I start cleaning the house. I do my homework. I try not to think. I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died. I look out the window. It's snowing again. A frozen landscape. Tough as rock. Untouchable.
I look out the window. Again.
Edward Cullen. I have mixed feelings. I try not to feel. If I feel, I'll feel everything. I'm shielded in my armor. He was a great figure. Alexander the Great. Charlemagne. King Arthur. I was not cut out to be a heroine. I was not enough. Not enough for such greatness.
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
The fool. An attendant lord in the great tale of Edward Cullen. The serving maid. A side note. Nothing more. Only human. Should I be grateful for this honor? I don't know. I don't want to know. To know I have to feel. If I feel something. I'll feel everything. I prefer to be a rock.
I make dinner. I eat a bit with Charlie. We don't talk. Take a shower. I brush my teeth. I brush my hair. I go to bed. I lie there for hours without falling asleep. I don't think. Tomorrow will be another day. Just like today. Just like yesterday. And just like yesterday, when tomorrow comes, I will forget about today. As I have forgotten about the days before. Sleep.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
A/N: What do you guys think? It was inspired by the song, I Am A Rock by Paul Simon (of Simon & Garfunkel). Hence the title. Italics are quotes from either the song or the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Elliot.
It's mostly a writing exercise to exacerbate the depression which Bella feel into when Edward left her. Very apathetic, but with a strong, underlying feeling of anger.
Please review, it would make me feel happy...