Chapter 1: The Clichéd Sophomore Slump

No one ever dreams of mediocrity.

No one ever wishes that when they would end up in the prime of their life doing nothing important and heading straight for lower middle at break-neck speeds.

When I finally realized it happened I lost it.

Utterly and completely.

But eventually we have to pick up the pieces of our pathetic lives and decide something, something important, something that will break the curse and make life mean something again.

That's mediocrity for you, though.

No one wants it to happen, but for most of us it just sort of does.

It is a pit from which few escape.

The sun peeked in through the slats of my blinds around midday. I was lying there for an hour already, motionless with the gears of my mind grinding away like they always did. It always got worse after my parents came for their bi-monthly visit. Any peace I had worked towards would be smashed by their cold compassion, and I would be stuck with a mind that couldn't rest, consistently working non-stop, going over recent events, reciting old trivia and new information.

Mainly I would just hear my mother's voice from somewhere in the grey matter.

You remember everything, why don't you just apply yourself more? That way you can get a good job and find a good man, and you won't do that thing again.

A part of me almost wants to put in even the least bit of effort into anything productive, then maybe the reassurance I give my mother could be genuine for once, but I can't find it in me. There's nothing left to give; I just don't care. If only it were that easy, but nothing is. Not for me. "Just apply yourself and life will be this great thing that has all this meaning to it." False. If one good event could snowball and make my life something worth living, I would be so grateful. I would be glad, and happy, and I'm sure I could fix everything I have spent so long breaking. I sincerely doubt it is possible, though. I'd just burn it all up again.

I rolled over to sit up and bask in the bits of sunlight. I lifted my arms up with a yawn and stretched every way I could. The sounds of popping broke up the silence in my room.

This is the best I would feel all day; best get the rest of it done with.

I started living on my own when I turned 16. My parents had always been the absentee type. A slew of nannies raised me in a horde of different houses, so when I started college it didn't feel all that different. It was the same nothingness. It was the same empty home, only this time I expected it. Since then I have become a child of habit, and now, a few months into my year-long sabbatical, nothing was different.

I still woke up; did my usual half hour of yoga before going for a run.

Some days I run an easy mile, others a well-paced 5k, but days like today, when my mother's words are still fresh, I push it to five miles.

If I end up feeling like it, and I always do, I head over to the boxing gym just down the street from my apartment to work the bag and dead lift until I'm completely worn out.

Then, when I am beat I go home I shower and do a cool-down stretch. Now I don't read textbooks. Time away from school means speed-reading for pleasure, not knowledge, not unless I feel like it. Today I felt like revisiting my favorites. I felt like escaping these walls and going somewhere far away.

Eventually, and sometimes even hours later if the book of the day is too good to put down, I would mix up a salad with a protein and fruit smoothie. Stay healthy. Stay nourished. Eat well and you will feel well. That's what they told me; who am I to argue? I'm just a lost kid.

These are the things I do every day, rain or shine. This is the best part of my day. It's simple. It all keeps me busy. It all keeps my mind occupied. It produces endorphins, which in turn make me feel like I'm almost happy. Sometimes, during the longer runs, I will have minutes where I don't think at all. I don't think of random factoids I read when I was twelve. I don't think of sections of textbooks I borrowed from Sophie last semester. I don't think of anything but moving my legs. It's bliss.

I wish I could find that kind of clarity more often. I wish I could just not have to think all the time.

I had only just turned on the faucet to wash my plate and glass, still is my dream world, when my cell phone rang.

Click. "You've got Dahlia."

"Hey, Dahl." There she was. It was my oldest and dearest friend, Sophie. When we were young she lived right across the street from me. Our parents set up play-dates, and it wasn't long before we became inseparable. When she went to public school, and I continued homeschooling we got a little more distant, but we still make sure to keep in touch. She didn't care that I was different, she didn't mind my constant need to recall information that was barely relevant, and that made her just about the only true friend until I went to college and made a slew of acquaintances. Then things changed. I stopped being able to connect. I stopped being able to weed out the bullshit, so I stopped trying so hard to do well. I wanted it all to stop, but it only got worse. It got worse, and she wasn't there for me anymore. We stopped talking every day on the phone, and weeks turned to months. Now I am lucky if I see her once a year. It's a shame, but distance does that to people. People change. That's what they told me anyway. Her chipper voice threw me from my thoughts, "We're still good for our trip tomorrow, right?"

Author's Note: So, I am new to this, so be sure to let me know what you think of this chapter. I figured it would be best to start off with a shorter chapter, don't want to bog you down with verbose chapters too soon. I have some fun ideas for this thing, so I hope at least one person might want to take this journey with me. Please review with your thoughts and such so I can get better at my writing. :) Thank you for reading! P.S. I came back in and fixed some of the infuriating typos. Fixed now though!