Mara Morrison Short Story

Everyday I wake up, pitch darkness. It has always been this way ever since I was born. People always tell me about how the sky is so bright and vibrant. A breathtaking mix of blue and white. I could never imagine something like that. These are the types of things I wish I could see.

I get told that my little sister Julia is beautiful. Big brown eyes, long eyelashes and curly brown hair. People adore her. She is ten years old. I am 13. From what I have heard, I have straight brown hair and brown eyes. Not the shiny kind that people get lost in, just brown.  I am not gorgeous like my sister, but not quite “ugly” either. I am just average.

Whenever I wake up, I can never really tell if I am 100% awake, all that comes to my brain is blackness. I know some things, like when my mom comes in to wake me up in the morning, her knees crack a little when she walks down the hall, and her feet brush the floor when she tries to be quiet. I keep my eyes shut even though my brain is awake. I wait for her to sit on the side of my bed and stroke my hair to wake me up.  Honestly, this is the best part of my day. Her presence and her smell put me in a good place to start again. I love my mom, and this is one of the very few things that calm me.

When I go downstairs, there are strong aromas of crispy bacon and freshly baked pancakes. I grab my walker, and go to the kitchen table to sit with Julia.

“Goodmorning” she says.

“Goodmorning” I reply. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay… ” she says. “I kept waking up and it took me 2 hours to fall back asleep. How about you?”

“Good” I say. I love when I am asleep because I can only see in my dreams.

Kids at school talk behind my back.

“She’s so stupid” they say.

“I feel bad for her…”.

Even though some things they say may seem nice, they aren’t intended to be. Even though I can’t see, I can feel them pity me. Being the only one feels uncomfortable, especially when you are 1 out of 400. When I walk down the halls I can feel the eyes staring me down. I do not know if this happens to the other kids, but I have an advantage because I can pretend I don’t see them. Overall, I genuinely can tolerate school. The teachers are very supportive and kind. They know what they are teaching and they love it. I hope I will find that kind of passion one day. The kids are horrible though. They make me feel isolated and alone. Since the beginning of my school career I had been the tag along, the outcast. They all are in one big bubble and I am lonely standing outside the lines.

My whole childhood I never had a care in the world. I did not know that people thought I was weird and talked about me behind my back. I did not feel like I was any different from the other kids. I knew I was, but I never thought it mattered. I did not care how I looked, how I dressed, how I talked, nothing seemed to matter but happiness to me. This year is starting to point in a different direction… People are starting to notice things that do not really matter. Some people are growing up faster than others and the more mature they get, the smarter they get. The more the realize my condition and they start to treat the different kids like losers. When my mom was pregnant with me, she got chicken pox. This got to me while I was still growing in her stomach, and when I was born I was diagnosed with congenital varicella syndrome. I now have my left leg paralyzed and I am completely blind. Things are not going too great for me at this particular time.

     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Over the past three months, the same things have been going on. I have started to feel more sad lately because everyone and everthing is changing, it is hard to keep up. As a outlet of my sadness and anger and frustration, I started writing songs. I have been using the microphone to record the lyrics because writing them down stresses me out. I don't know what I would do without my songs, they are the only place I can really pour my heart out. It’s a place of freedom. I write about depression, growing up, people changing, and things that all build up and eventually I’m going to tip. Recently, somehow, they got out. Everyone at my school found out about them and it is the only thing they talk about, good thing it’s anonymous. I can feel the tension building within the school.

I cannot believe how fast things are spreading. Somebody uploaded one of the songs on YouTube and it has over 1,000 views. I actually can’t believe this really happened. I do not know how I feel about this… if I tell, people will either have more reason to think I am weird, or they will like me for who I am. The only one who knows who wrote them is Julia. She thinks I should put my name on it because it’s mine. I do not agree.

If I do it, more attention will get drawn to me and that is not what I am looking for. All I want is to fit in. Being the writer of thousands of songs is the way to stand out, not the way to hide. I can always write more.