Overgrown Hedges: Chapter One

Welcome! This is a half-diary entry half fictional prose from my days in high school (2023). A lot of self-deprecating speech and some violent imagery, you have been warned! Enjoy... (don't forget to give me your thoughts!)

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Yet again I've begun my turmoil of self-loathing and internal suffering. I surround myself with people whom I see from high above me, towering as they look down at me from their pedestals. The pedestals which I hold up with swollen hands and cracked teeth. They do not see the distance, instead, I weave blankets of thought and circumstance. And so I draw perfect lines demonstrating these never-ending towers which I cower under. 

My nails split as they crashed against my skull, the hair ripping from my scalp. Roots creep higher up my arm and down my legs, and the ivy wrings itself tightly against my flesh – the thorns drawing droplets of blood at a time. I bring myself back to reality, the blur in my eyes fades and makes way for the ceiling of my bedroom, the mold village in the corners contrasting the white paint. I stare motionless, my arms numb at my side, numb from my assault. I can feel the ache in my head getting heavier and heavier, with my growing headache I see the sun lifting over the horizon out my window. My eyes are dry from having lost all their moisture, which now seems to have been soaked into my pillow.

Ritualistically, my 5:30 alarm rings. Too numb to move I leave it to ring at first, but at the sound of rustling in the kitchen across the hallway I quickly scurry to switch it off.

“You have 20 minutes left!” my father's voice echoes through my room.

My sleeves flop down my arms and I pull my pants back to their original position. Evidence of the past evening's mess lay strewn on my floor like a zoo animal pen. Books, clothes, tissues. Everything one ought to have on the floor as a student. 

I busy myself with the day's preparation, my sleepless night had caused a rush of adrenalin to spin throughout my body, and now I float around the house with the listless energy of a sloth and the speed of a leaf in the wind. Before I can comprehend I'm at school and the cool clouds stare at me on my journey to my first class, their bright cold nature brings on a headache and causes me to bite my breath. As I step into my building I pray and plead to a god I do not believe in for me to have a solitary day. The class fills up quickly and I find a seat in the middle row, people move and squash like fish in a bucket. The injuries produced in an attempt to find a seat often seem to go unheard, or perhaps what I see as chaos is calm and of little concern. 

I am lucky to find myself between two introverted strangers, the heavens have answered my call. 

The class goes by without a hitch, with a professor who overshares and a flock of boisterous boys in the back of the class. An hour or two had passed by the time I realised I was to eat, the stings on my arms and legs had lessened to a deft pain, but if I were to move too suddenly or scratch over the clothing, it would seem as though I was donating blood. To whom would the blood go? I ask myself such senseless questions. Surely it would be donated to the pavement or perhaps my sandwich which I now lean over as I ponder my cloudlike question. I was once told that I often seem to know exactly what I was doing, but after reflection, I realise the fallacy of such a statement, rather I am akin to a cloudy day. There are many thoughts which seem to overflow in my mind but sometimes I can just be and seem to sit for hours on end without having a single thought.

By Taaraa Lakay

(Reminder not to steal others' work! And if you would like to use it (in any form) please do credit me, hope you have a great day honey!) + (tell me if you'd be into reading the second chapter!)