Alex Clare-Whispering

I pick through places for my bare feet to land, avoiding the pricks of autumn debris. I feel the rough pavement against my soles. The neighbors ask What happened to your shoes? I tell them I'm fine. This sensory input feeds my starved nerves; I feel as if a blindfold was lifted off my face. I'm more grounded to my surroundings.

A cord trail leads from my ears to my pocket. I feel my smartphone weigh down my pants, tugging at the hips, after I pressed repeat on YouTube. The repetitious monotone of Alex's chorus used to be grating, like the buzz of a fly or the hum of electronics. Right now it latched on to the buzz of my ruminations. Whispering.

I mumble the lyrics under my breath as I balance on the median curb. I step off into cool soil, observing the tree lined middle as I pass. I step back onto the road. The road ends, forcing me to walk through an empty lot of lawn loosely connected to someone's yard. Then I step onto the sidewalk. I walk the route every day, sometimes several times a day. Yet, I've only lived here a year.

My headphones dim the roar of traffic. I let the glistening dew of the grass on my right sooth the constant ache in my chest and in my mind. In my hand I carry a plastic cup of lukewarm coffee, but the music temporarily distracts me from the ants in my mind. The road seems to stretch out forever. Not much warranted attention for the time being.

As I round the corner, I read in Celtic font: Elahan Place. Sometimes I see residents play basketball up front. I wonder, Is this my destiny? At 19, I can't imagine ever living independently. I'm crazy. A break is around the corner. It's about time. I can't live with my parents forever... Maybe an inpatient facility will be my only option...

As I pass the place, I busy myself looking at the exposed roots tree hedge. Self-conscious of being a lurker. I want go inside. I want to see... I know I'll get another peek the next time around.

Second loop on my route, anticipation rises as I reach the wall dividing the sidewalk from the residential center. I tilt my head, contemplating scaling to the other side to break in. When you put it that way, maybe it's not a good idea... I keep on, stepping around shards of a beer bottle as I do.

This was my loop. Several times a day. I was distressed. I mimed the song, desperately. Trying to distract myself from thoughts and the future. Keep myself in the present. I don't have the skills... I can't live independently... Will I live with my parents forever... All my friends were leaving me.

Yet the present lulled a false calmness. A cozy nest that hadn't quite blown away. The moments dragged on forever, seemingly unchanging. This was my corner of the world for two years, but two years felt too long.

It's only a matter of time before things change again. For my normal now to be ripped right out from under me, and then what? Where will I go? Who would help me? Outside my family, will I even survive? I'd give anything to not know the answer.

"Who will care for the falling?" Reverberated in my soul. "Who will care for the falling?" I shouted the the chorus over the sound of traffic. I don't care what I look like. No one will take notice anyway. I'm invisible.