My Final Walk, My Last Goodbye

My Final Walk, My Last Goodbye

Growing up, my life wasn’t as easy as any other kids, not by a longshot. One of my earliest memories was of a family Christmas, just like any other. We were all gathered in my Aunts house, my mum wearing a red tartan skirt with a blouse, my dad wearing his jeans and a hoodie, it was all very normal. I was very young, only three at the time, maybe that’s why I was so naïve. That Christmas morning I ran downstairs, excited, happy, my happiness rising into the sky like a balloon a child has let go of at a park. My mother was already sitting down on the sofa, a coffee cup filled with god knows what in her hand, smiling drunkenly at me. My aunt was looming over her, her hands fixed on her hips, her mouth slowly receding from her cheeks, as though she had finished smiling. But it wasn’t a smile. That Christmas was the year that my mother and my dad split… That was the year that my life was turned upside down. My happiness, my excitement for Christmas faded as quickly as it had arrived, never to come back.

I was always a faggot my dad once told me, always running around with my arms flaying around, laughing and giggling like a pansy. To me, I was normal… I wasn’t any different and yet I was… My dad would always shout at me for doing anything feminine, crossing my legs in a certain way, laughing with a high pitched squeal, anything. I wish my mother didn’t leave… She was kind to me, or so I can remember. But she’s gone now, and she isn’t coming back.

I snapped out of my day dream as the bell echoed throughout the winding halls of my school. I stood up slowly, fixing my knit wear cardigan as the classroom around me erupted in joy filled laughter. I picked up my bag, making sure that the safety pin that kept my old school books from falling out was still intact. I slowly placed it on my back, my shoulders aching from the weight of the never ending pile of books kept inside. But I endured, I walked out of the derelict maths classroom into the spacious hallway of my hellish school, never looking back. The hallway was filled with masses of people, as though it was a field or unorganised flowers, with few imperfect weeds sticking out from the bloom of spring. As I walked down the hall, I heard a group of girls murmur something, one of them flicking her extensions as she let out a laugh. I kept walking, ignoring them. It would all be over soon, I thought to myself. Soon it won’t matter what they think. I kept walking, a solemn expression on my face.

How did it get to this? I always asked this question, always reaching the same answer and yet I perceived it differently each time.

In first year, I had a group of friends and we were close. At first when I was bullied, they would stick up for me, making me feel like I was accepted. But when I came out to them it all changed… Suddenly the jokes I was tortured with became their favourite song, my friendship becoming a constant comedy club for them to be the members of. Eventually, they stopped acknowledging me altogether and I was left alone. The darkness engulfed me in its claws, tearing everything that remained in my life until nothing was left. A shell. Something left to roam the earth until it finds meaning, or ends it all. I was prepared to meet a conclusion…

When I reached the wooden gates that protected the way to freedom, I began to worry… I looked at the poster sprawled across the door with my school logo, in a font so peculiar that it made me seem normal. “Believe in yourself, Believe in your dream.” I had to believe in myself… I pushed the gate open, stepping through into the empty stairwell. Or so I thought that it was empty. He charged at me, pushing me to the floor. My book filled bag breaking the fall. I looked up at him, his hate filled eyes piercing the little guard I had left. He lifted his leg up, his friends laughing around him. I braced myself, knowing what was to come. I could have ran, I could have stood up and fought him. But it wasn’t worth it… It wouldn’t matter soon. So I let him kick me, my stomach curdling as his once white shoe propelled itself towards it. I remained silent, though as much as it pained me it was nothing in comparison to every other time. I stood up, my hand resting against my stomach, and I walked up the stairs. I heard them laughing, saying stuff already said about me. If this had been earlier that year, I would have felt upset. But now it was just an echo of what I thought. It wasn’t new to me, it was just a repeat.

The stairs were slippery, the stone polished and gleaming with a layer of cola, spilled by the first years earlier at break. My feet stuck to the stairs, and yet I just kept walking. I didn’t care about the stairs, or the cola that covered it. I didn’t care about what they said, what they did. I didn’t care anymore… Just like no one cared about me. I was alone… I was always going to be alone…

At long last I reached the final barrier in my journey, my final walk, my last goodbye. The door was wooden, covered in a steel plate that shielded it from the never-ending winds of the roof. The plate was strong, powerful, and yet it covered something so weak and frail. It was like a mask at a masquerade, protecting the true thing who wore it. I pushed at the bar on the door, the wind picking it up and sending it quickly out of my grasp. I would have jumped, I would have shook, if I wasn’t so close.

I walked forward slowly, the wind ruffled its way through my hair, as though I was a child again. I was crying, and yet my eyes were dry. All the times I had cried finally catching up to me, draining me of all ways to show emotion… I had to do this… A single tear streamed down my cheek, leaving a trail of despair in its wake. Don’t worry Mark… I whispered, it will all be over soon.