Today's The Day
The mall again. That's how it always ends up, doesn't it. School bores you to tears, the drudgery of normal life tearing down your spirit, casting a shadow over you like clouds on a sunny day, or, my personal favorite, like the sword of Damocles hanging ominously over your head. Normality, as much as you decry it, stares you in the face every day. The only problem, really, is that it's staring at you out of a mirror.Who am I? Oh don't mind me, I'm your internal monologue. Yeah, that's right, I'm that little voice that's here to tell you how it is, or at least, how you think it is. I have the power to describe your life, and to paint it with the brush that you favor most. Take now for instance, as you stand staring down at the food court below you, how does it go?Do you stand there purposefully, seeking out that which you came here for? Your eyes swiveling back and forth as your lip curls back in a silent snarl? The furs beneath scurry like ants, driven by relentless consumerism and the need to beautify their miserable lives with clothing and things, mindlessly aping the latest fashions that dance across the collective subconscious of an enfeebled and disenfranchised society. Your coffee colored mane, sternly streaked gold and black, frames your predator's snarl magnificently as you contemplate your purpose here. Here within this den of corporate chaos, do your powerful paws beat out a warning drum upon the banister, alerting all that you have found your mark?Of course not.You stand there confusedly, as if in a daze, mindless and unaware of those that give you worried glances as they pass. Your mane, matted, tangled, and unbrushed, catches on the hook of your backpack as you shake your head, trying to dislodge me, the voice you can't get rid of. Oh, how silly you look trying to pull the strands of fur delicately out of the metal pin that's yanking it so. You really should get it trimmed, right now it's just a mess and gets caught on everything. Annoyedly you chuff, your voice cracking with a pitiful whine even as you finally get yourself as in order as you're ever going to be. Your paws beat out a warning, but it's a warning of anxiety, of fear and uncertainty, just as it always is.Walking away you realize that you haven't paid any attention to where you're going. No, you're too distracted talking to yourself, and you've walked right into the girl's bathroom by mistake. You spin on your heel and walk right out, blushing like a silly little school girl, but nothing happens. No one even cares, and you doubt anyone has even noticed. No one stops and yells at you, no punk rocker chick thinks your blush is cute and calls you over to adventurify your day. Nope, just a mistake that no one paid any attention to, and here you are again, all alone with your thoughts. Sorry to tell you kid, but the piece-of-crap internet stories that you bury yourself in every night ain't real, and thems the digs. Go back to the railing and contemplate just how long it would take to fall to the basement level from here.Oh, but there's a sight. THEY are standing over there. You know who I'm talking about. You've cut classes enough to become somewhat of a mall-regular, as sad as that may be, but funny enough so have they. They have to have a better reason than you though. They're probably undercover mall-security, keeping a sharp eye out for those thieves and lifters and weirdos like you. That's probably why you see them every time you're here, because they're told to keep an eye out on that college-age lion nerd that nervously prowls the halls at least twice a week. They certainly can't be here because they're just as lame as you are.No, they're far too interesting. They always have a book out, and though you see them a couple times a week, it's never the same book. Their beautiful eyes scan the pages voraciously, flipping through them faster than you would a stick-figure flip-book, animatedly devouring the story as they hunt down the plots, teasing out the words like a gentle lover's sigh, and conquering them like Hannibal with his elephants, daring the literary masterpieces to throw up even the most feeble of defenses against their hungry gaze. Too bad all that means is that they're too smart for you. You haven't said a word to them, or seen them at any distance closer than the 20,000 leagues that your uncertainty takes up in the space between you.Nervously, yet again, your paws drum the cheap metal railing. Another day at the mall, another day spent wallowing in your- "Screw this."I beg your pardon?"I don't have time for this shit."What don't you have time for, you miserable little-YOU! I don't have time for this petty little game you play with me!Well here's a little something to snap you back to reality, you've....You've walked up to them? Are you insane?? I don't think you've--figured out what I'm doing? Maybe not, but it's better than listening to you.I AM YOU! I'M THE MEDIOCRITY CREEPING THROUGH YOUR-"Hi." you say-LAMELY...Confidently."How are you?"The seconds tick by as they tear their eyes away from their book. They turn to you slowly, a quizzical look upon their face--and they smile. You don't think you've ever seen a more beautiful thing. And finally the voice falls to a whisper, then to a whine, and then, at long last, to a silence.