1

This afternoon, I sat debating with myself about life and death, which was as normal as a bird flying and then dying one day.

See there? These types of thoughts convinced people, I, Isabelle Carter, was mad or thoroughly depressed about my state, but I found myself in perfect condition of passing off as a human. Like yeah, I was a total pull-off in the midst of a fun...but I didn't see it as a problem, Not my fault if I am not interested in activities such as having fun with friends or hanging out with the sound system at its highest. I liked reading. A nerd, perhaps u can call me? But I don't see a problem. Technically, people saw a problem. For they considered, one of the symptoms of depression is disinterest in activities.

Personally, if you ask me, I am not much of a normal person, which perhaps makes me different from others. I liked reading. Enjoyed reading. It is what you call home...people refer to it as an escape from reality when life starts being a bitch to you. But I don't have a life you see? Books are my life. I don't think much of the sky...or the sun...or the flowers...or anything literally.

I like the moon though. It's not even much of a liking, but I would say...I see the moon as a person...in the literal context. I had friends...' friend' to be exact. I only had one, Hazel Brown, who knew the boringness of my life, and yet she enthusiastically decided, my life was worth the call. She was the one you can call when you wanna have fun or whatever. She was an easy laugh, but quite a classy woman fit inside a 16-year-old girl, and everyone accepted it. We spent time on the grass of India talking but mostly me with my nose in a book.

My life mostly contained fictional characters cause the real-life ones were anyways quite done with me. My mother disowned me with she got to know I had a tumour in my eye with an utmost disability to cure it. I never met my father, or perhaps he wasn't there...I wasn't sure. But my mother was the only part of the family that I remembered. I dropped out of school long back, for it didn't benefit me anything other than 7 hours of constant war with my eyelids trying to pass me out. I know it was weird you know...my life revolving around books that I read with my eyes and yet my eyes being the worst failure of my body. But it was like that, and I had to deal with it.

I had weird beliefs about life and death that could take years to convince people of, yet they will be with this expression of: This lady is weird!

I pushed my thoughts aside and dragged my body out of the little apartment that I lived in. It wasn't perfectly organized or something but it was basically like me, scattered. I had my class which was the only thing I attended for my academic purposes, at 6. It was 5:54 now. I was basically like this: won't be doing anything until you feel the utmost pressure of the need inside you. It was like a metaphor. I was a huge believer in metaphors that had resulted from a book that I was totally obsessed with.

I didn't do much of a look-test in my mirror but just combed my hair for that's what mattered to me anyway. I took my backpack and left the house, with my favourite book by my side. I usually walked to my classes considering they were only a few miles away. I liked reading and walking. It gave me a realization of the universe itching at my skin with me being engrossed in some false truths of a fictional universe. Mad huh?

I entered the tall grey building and climbed the stairs, kind of exhausted me. Not because of my lungs which were (hopefully) in excellent condition, but because of the immense concentration that I required while climbing the stars.

Was trying not to fall over and break your head a crime too nowadays? Certainly, to be my body, it was.

I entered the class and sat down on the last bench, closing the book, and snapping to the attention-seeking universe. It was almost 4:08 and the professor had shown no signs of showing up yet. No words, and no interactions, yet stepping foot in this room was irritating. The constant stares that you get from other students were irritating, but it was ignored all over when the professor decided he was gonna show up and greeted them cheerfully.

The next few hours went by, me trying to take notes and the professor trying to explain, when there was a sudden bang and a panting figure was leaning on the door, trying to regain his breath.

He was handsome, I guess. And coming that from me was a big statement. I generally never pay attention to anyone, leave alone guys. He was tall and muscular with definite features. He wore jeans and a white shirt, not perfectly white that you would wear to events, but a dull white. It kinda looked nice on him. The whole class stared at him, the professor analysing every movement done by him. Once regained, he flashed an apologetic, goofy smile to the professor.

"Sorry, sir, late, not usually but yeah, got stuck in the heavy chaos of the world," he said with a deep voice. No one laughed or smiled, but I gave a mere hint of a laugh. I liked the humourous intelligence that he withhold. His eyes flashed at me, suddenly making me feel like I was standing in the front...on the stage.

He stared for like 10 seconds, which felt like years to me, and then turned to the professor.

"Quite a funny excuse, Mr Sanchez, but will not be accepted in any other circumstances. Please find a seat for yourself.

Seconds, minutes, and hours passed, while the class continued. Not many cared but I felt time prickling the back of my neck, for the deep brown eyes kept staring at me all the while...