Alan- Wearing Our Masks

There's a feeling you can't grasp unless you experience pain and make mistakes. There's also a feeling that eludes you until you reach rock bottom. We think of the world as something we can shape, give life and colors to. I don't think no choice is a wrong one... you can color your world as you will. Even if you're a bit of hurt... even if it isn't what others will feel good of. 

And then you start to resist the expectations of life. But when everything crumbles afterward, you find yourself longing for those very expectations. After all, darkness only exists because of the sun, and both have their significance. They can never be taken lightly.

If only I had mustered a touch more courage, there could have existed a tomorrow where I could have rewritten the course of events. There were so many things I could've done differently... had done I didn't when I had the chance. I didn’t even realize that... how many times did I have those moments?

I sat anxiously around the table in the teachers' office, my home room teacher sitting across from me. Her eyes darted between the clock, and then to me, "When will your parents arrive? We don't have the whole day to be waiting here!"

It happened when I was in grade school. The tension in the room grew more intense with each passing moment. Finally, mom arrived, seemingly unfazed, despite the urgency. She sat down next to me, and the conversation began.

My teacher turned to my mom, urging her to ask me what I had done. I was too frustrated to keep my composure, as I couldn't help but react impulsively. "It's not my fault!" I exclaimed. "I didn't do anything wrong."

My teacher's voice grew louder as she insisted, "Then tell us what you did, if you're claiming it's not your fault..."

"Alan, tell me... what did you do?" Mom echoed the same question.

Reluctantly, I confessed, "I got into a fight with another kid in my class, and I ended up breaking his nose." But before they could say anything, I quickly added, "But it's not my fault! He provoked me!"

"Mrs. Fergus, it wasn't just a fight. Your son physically assaulted another student without any apparent reason."

"As I said, he provoked me first-"

"Did I want to hear excuses, Alan Fergus?"

"Why won't you let me explain...?" But before I could finish, mom unexpectedly slapped me across the face. The sudden sting left me shocked and speechless.

"Ms. Cathy, I'm deeply sorry for my son's misbehavior. I will personally talk to him later, and I promise it won't happen again."

"Oh, Mrs. Fergus... you don't need to apologize. Just make sure he learns from this and doesn't repeat such actions."

"Thank you, Ms. Cathy. I'll keep that in mind. We will take our leave now." Swiftly, she stood up, pulling me along, and nodded to the teacher. Without saying another word, we left the room. As we walked through the corridor, my mom's voice erupted in frustration, "Alan, why do you always cause so much trouble for me? Can't you at least behave yourself?"

I knew I can't talk back to her as things are now. All I can do is take them in and try to swallow them whole. That's all I can do...

Her tone keeps taking a deeper hue. "I'm always telling you to do as I say... but why don't you listen to me?"

That's the same thing she'll keep asking... over and over again. She'll keep expecting things I'd never prefer, things too out of my reach. Even this time, when I was insulted right on my face, she'll just say to have done nothing and simply, "let it be." 

We always try to be someone who we never are... never were. Trying to hide our weaknesses, we end up being something always judging ourselves from others eyes. But all those eyes were staring at me, and doing nothing would've made me look even more pathetic.  

In the end, Mom and I are never really getting along… She always says I'm… that I'm no good. The things I do are always wrong. Everything I do is met with criticism. She just keeps hurling hurtful words at me, insisting it's for my benefit. Whenever I try to defend myself, she explodes in anger. But when I choose to remain silent, I feel like a target for her frustrations.

The events led to my suspension from school for a week. Sitting at the dinner table that evening, dad asked me what happened at school today, and why they got a call from Ms. Cathy. I told him the same story I had told my teacher, insisting on my innocence. But he, too, doubted my words. He pressed on, "Are you sure you weren't at fault?"

Midway through our conversation, my mom stormed in, her voice filled with anger. "You're still going on with that!?" She berated, "When will you learn your lesson?" 

Everything pisses me off. I can't take it anymore. In a fit of frustration, I shoved my plates off the table, watching them shatter on the floor. Ignoring the surrounding chaos, I retreated to my room, locking the door behind me. My father followed, banging on the door and calling my name, but eventually, the noise ceased.

It’s everything…everything! Everything pisses me off! Them! My classmates! The teachers! Dad! And mom! Every single one of them! They're all wrong! All of you treat me like some worthless loser, but guess what? None of you are any better than me! I wish you'd all just vanish from my life. I wish you'd all disappear, as if you never existed! Just leave me be! Let me breathe! Vanish from my sight! Get lost... far away from me!

A week went by, and my suspension finally ended, which meant I had to go back to school. But as soon as I stepped into the classroom, I sensed a shift in the atmosphere. It was as if everything had changed, especially when it came to how others saw me. Despite my efforts to laugh and talk like before, everyone seemed distant, as if they now looked down on me.

During our home room class, Ms. Cathy insisted that I shake hands and apologize to the kid I had fought with. Yet, deep down, I knew it wasn't a sincere apology. It felt like everyone was just making fun of me, mocking my every move.

And then, there she was—a new student who caught my attention. Jace's seat was right beside mine, so I turned to him and asked, pointing towards her. "Who is she?"

"Oh, you didn't know? She transferred here while you were still in suspension."

"What's her name?"

"Iva Valentine, I think. She's not much of a talker, so I almost forgot." Jace replied.

It was understandable why he struggled to remember her name. Iva stood out, or perhaps it was the opposite—she seemed to be reluctant to connect with anyone. Even when the teacher called her name, she stumbled over it, as if negating the very presence of those around her. With a fixed gaze on the floor, she wouldn't budge even after I stared at her for so long. She seemed... really lonely.

As the day's lessons gave way on our way home that day, I noticed Iva walking in the same direction, all by herself. My curiosity got the best of me, so I decided to follow her from a distance until she entered an apartment building. It turned out she lived just a few blocks away from my house.

There was something about her that made me want to know more. Not because she seemed lonely... I know she doesn't need my pity. Maybe I'm just jealous, jealous of the fact that she's so easily able to do something which I'm not capable of. Despite the abuse we endure from others, the despair we feel, and the rejection we receive from our own families, deep down, we all yearn for acceptance.

And as I stood there, separated by a distance both physical and emotional, I couldn't help but recognize that my own pursuits were mirrored in Iva's solitude. The belief in enduring love, the pursuit of undying connections – these were the currents that tethered us together, irrespective of the vast ocean of isolation that surrounded us both.

We long to believe... in the existence of things that endure, that last forever.