Subaquatic - Chapter 1

Iris

My phone softly vibrates from across my bedroom and the fluorescent light pours onto the ceiling. Once again, I debate whether or not to go see who texted me. Most of the time, I ignore it. Sometimes; however, I have this heavy weight in my stomach that makes my conscience uneasy and tells me something very important is happening on the other side of that phone. Maybe someone died. Or my parents are stranded somewhere. Or an apocalypse is finally taking place. I never have the innocent, normal idea that someone is trying to talk to me just to … talk. The idea that someone enjoys having a conversation that will probably be useless is odd to me.

People are much different when they are behind a screen. They transform into these strange creatures who are hungry for attention and validation from each other. Everyone feeds off of one another and tries to make their numbers larger. More likes on the photo. More people in the tag. They do this until all anyone ever is is a number. A wandering number. A social status. A number of friends. Why would I want to text someone if they transform into this animal that I cannot comprehend or tame?

Surrendering to my overactive imagination, I roll off of my bed and waltz over to my bookshelf, my toes curling at the feel of the cold wooden floor beneath me. On the way over, I dance to the music that is flooding from my speakers and is filling the room. There are times like this where I feel still inside myself. Peace is found momentarily within and I am the notes and words of the song. No one is watching. My hair is messy and choppy. My eyeliner is smudged. My body is tired. But now I am swimming. The music and I are one.

“I want to swim away but I don’t know how…” I whisper along.

The cold, black glass of my cell phone meets my fingers and the light shines on my face. I read the text.

“Hey, Iris! We haven’t talked in awhile. How are you?” the text read. It was from someone whom I used to be as close as close can be with. I don’t know what happened, really. We just drifted apart. People do that a lot. They aren’t completely out of your life, but they aren’t doing anything while staying.

I sigh and tap on the text to reply but think better of it and turn my phone off. He doesn’t care. He never did. Sam was far better actor than people gave him credit for being. Pretending like he was a great boy with a good family and a good heart. I still believe he does, deep down. But he has become a foreigner, not the person I grew up with. Sam slowly melted into the people I hold the most enmity towards. His tall, muscular stature and golden hair made him the subject to a few girls’ hormonal liking, and I think once he started treating people like insignificant and troublesome parts of his like is when I took a step back.

When I did, our small friend group crumbled like an old pastry. We dated each other, knowing that relationships between fourteen year olds were bound for anything but glory and flourishing romance. Walls of animosity towards each other were slowly built from the bricks we threw.

There were five of us total : Sam, Finn, Piper, Cheyenne, and I. We were inseparable. Sam and Cheyenne dated. Finn and Piper dated. I was just the middle person, and they could have done without me. They didn’t though, and I was okay with being the fifth wheel. The summer before going into our last year before high school, we did everything. Movies were filled with side comments and running into other movies. Our houses were sanctuaries to play truth or dare and explore outside. We created short-lived traditions and told secrets in the safety of the dark. The minute school started, the relationships broke and so did our friendships. All of us turned into unknown personas and we acted like we didn’t know each other in the hallways. That is when I started. That is when the shaking begun.

This sudden wave of nostalgia makes my heart ache as well as my head. This wave is not pleasurable like those of music, though. Before I know it, my face is traced with small streams of salt water and my vision goes blurry. I run over to the window, pull off the screen, and climb onto my windowsill. Gulping the icy air, I sit and try to calm down and look up at the stars that litter the dark sky. My old blue shirt is hanging off of of me, leaving my milky white skin exposed to the ruthless winds. I picture my face at this very moment. Scarred and freckled with eyes like glaciers that disrupt my whole mien. My face is contorting into the ugly crying face that I know I make. I run my fingers through my hair, feeling the soft hay-like texture. I can't stop crying. I am shaking more than usual. There is a tsunami in my chest and I can feel the water forcing its way up my throat and out my eyes. No longer am I in control of my body or my mind or anything else in my life. But was I ever?