Brutal Imagination

Savannah Stowell 

I’m surrounded by so many savage and jealous teenagers. Rows of desks filled with classmates, the majority of them whispering nasty things about other people. Whether it’s about a snobby best friend or what a complete stranger is wearing; they could fabricate an insult about anyone from thin air. The comments keep coming, one after another. I don’t know a single person who hasn’t been taunted by these people, but if you haven’t then tell me, because clearly you’re doing something right. The insults are thrown one after another like cars flying down a highway, and they keep coming until there’s a giant crash. This is the world I live in and all anyone wants at this point is to escape.

Oftentimes I like to abandon the world and retreat into my imagination where it’s safe. At least in a world that I create, I can’t be hurt. I can’t overhear all the whispering behind my back. In my imagination, I don’t feel completely worthless.

I don’t have too many friends, just a small group that I stick with. There are so many cliques that I’ve never fit into, so I’m pretty used to it by now. There are some people that I get along with outside of my small group, but we don’t really hang out, or talk, but that’s not the point. Even some of the popular kids aren’t too bad. They’d try to be nice and let me fit in for a change. But peer pressure gets the best of them and I go back to being alone. That’s the way it’s always been and for the rest of my school life, that’s how it’s going to be.

Day after day, I’m stuck in stuffy classrooms that reek of body odor which is only partially masked by the scents of different perfumes and colognes. All day I’d hear the whispering, along with numerous yawns and groans. My favorite part of the day would always be right when I get home, after my 3 o’clock therapy appointment. That’s where I usually just complain about what I know people say about me and sometimes even meditate. Therapy is honestly pretty chill for me, which is odd because I used to despise it. I just hate when the therapist asks me about my future because honestly, I don’t know what to do with my life. I don’t have the best grades, I don’t socialize, and the only thing I enjoy is escaping. I love to slip on my headphones with some soft Lo-fi music playing while I slide into my imagination. Most people say that the imagination is the most dangerous place. They clearly haven’t gone to my school. 

I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and curl up in my bed. I shut my eyes and start to relax. I am in a calm, summer forest with me, myself, and I. The sounds of birds chirping fill my body with peace. I feel the sun beaming on my face as I start walking through the woods. I felt a slight cool breeze but in time it only gets colder, colder, and colder- until I am freezing. I start to hear whispering and mockery through the trees. The whispers consist of all my classmates taunting me with everything they have. I try to re-calm myself but it’s too late. My mind takes me back to school, back into the classroom. I feel as if I am a camera moving around the room. I see myself sitting around people whispering behind my back. The teacher is calling me up to talk about my grade. To talk about how I’m one step away from failing. Laughter starts surrounding the room. Other students are yelling things like “She’s so stupid” and “She’s such a failure”. I watch tears fill my eyes as I take a seat with my head in my arms, wishing I could just disappear. 

The sounds of laughter start to fade and I’m back in the forest. It is still just as cold, if not colder. I try to calm myself down, telling myself it is alright and it isn’t real. I tell myself this despite the fact that if I don’t collect myself soon it could very well be reality. My heart rate slowly goes steady until I hear the snickering once more. I don’t want to do this anymore. I just want to take myself back into the calm forest, but I’m not in control anymore. I am suffocating in my own imagination. The snickering is only getting louder. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, and I can’t move. Louder, louder, and louder until I’m back in a classroom. This one is different. The voices are different. They sound deeper and more caring than before, but I look around to see the same faces, but older- this must be my future. My ideal future- one where I don’t feel so alone, where for once people would be laughing with me instead. It is comforting in a sense and it gives me hope. Then I see myself: I am so beautiful, but more surprisingly I seem successful; I love this feeling. I want it to be real, more than anything. Every part of me starts to relax at the thought that I might just be alright.

Then all of a sudden the futuristic faces start to turn back to what they look like in the present day and the snickering begins again. They are all pointing and laughing at me. My throat is closing and I’m trying to gasp for air with no luck. Goosebumps are covering my skin from how cold I feel and my stomach feels as if it were being tied in a knot. I’m trying to calm myself down but my mind is racing and my body is too tense. If I have to deal with this at school I definitely don’t want to now. Not even slightly. But there’s no turning back now. In this brutal imagination, I feel as if I have no other choice other than to run. Automatically, I start to run out of the classroom; like a car speeding down a road with no driver. Gasping for air didn’t get any easier. I collapse to the ground but determined to get away I keep trying to drag myself, clawing at the floor with every movement. Without getting too much farther my body gives out and I thought for sure this was how it ended. But something came over me and I was finally able to get in one last breath. Struggling, I pick myself to a standing position feeling stronger than ever. 

I take one last step and with it, I’m snapped back into reality. My heartbeat continues to be fast-paced and my breathing is still heavy. A tear slips down my cheek as I think of what my imagination just showed me. What was thought to be my happy place was indeed a dangerous place. I sit back up more determined to make every day count. From then on I decide I’m not going to hide and give in to the pressure or fear. If there’s anything I learned it’s to keep pushing forward. For the first time in so many years, I don’t doubt myself. For the first time ever, I feel comforted by my brutal reality.