Holidays In Nowhere

I think I’m just doing this keep my mind from going numb.
There is nothing. Nothing nothing nothing; here, at all. There are two buttons here on my keyboard that don’t do anything, and I keep pressing them. It’s the story of my life.
I think I’d just about kill someone to have something exciting or different happen. The highlight of my day was finding out that we have NO toilet paper and are soon to have NO tissues. Oooh misfortune and intrigue. Whatever shall we do? Has my mother put that on the list to pick up after work? Is there even such a list? Gosh.
It’s just another excuse not to do practice exams.
Exams.
So far I have had two. I think I bungled the second section of the English one, although two-thirds correct is right on track for what I need. I didn’t care about that as much as I thought I would, even though I went around telling everyone how I expected to get over 40 (out of 50) on it. I think I nailed my English Language one, but ended up having awful dreams about whole sections left blank and answering questions with arithmetic. It almost made me laugh. I still have two to go. IT tomorrow, and I can see that going right where my teacher’s teaching prompted – down the toilet. I wanted to read over the whole fucking book before that exam. As if. I wanted to read my school assessed essay on The Catcher In The Rye before the English exam, but even that was too much for me. And it turned out the question that so stumped me on the exam was almost exactly identical to the one I answered in my essay; but of course I only realised this days afterwards. I got a practice essay done for English Language like I promised my teacher, three hours before the exam. I guess that was good karma at least. As you can see I have become sufficiently bored with my exams to feel fine about discussing them. Whatever good that does me.

The one thing that really pisses me off, believe it or not; is the fact that I can’t exercise. There is a heat outside like you have never experienced. It’s not the air temperature, not that oppressive humid type of heat, or the type that makes you want to go swimming – no, this is heat that only the ozone hole of Australia can provide. It was once said that I might not enjoy the climate in England; I also once said that if I had my choice I would outlaw summer, and it looks like somebody got that wish in the UK. The heat over here is heat that hurts to look at through your window; what makes the grass dry and bleach, the cattle die and the cicadas raucous. The ground is a dead sort of light orange, like variations on straw; and the sky is an evil opposite bright blue, that seems just a tiny bit greenish near the horizon and a tiny bit indigo near the top. It’s still and bright, glaring like an over exposed over bright photo of itself. You have to squint to do anything, not even the dog wants to go out.
And inside it’s dull and cold and wearisome. The dog is lying upside-down on the carpet, the fish are hiding down the bottom of their bowl, my mother is at work and this morning I only got out of bed at 12.
I stay up way to late unable to go to sleep; no not sleep, sleep is something you do when you need rest – unable to lose consciousness in my bed. Apathy is the only emotion. And as if television wasn’t enough; I sit there at one AM playing senseless computer games, not proper ones with a plot or anything; I ran out of those; no, little colourful internet arcade games. I have 282 of them and last night I discovered I had played every single one.
My mind is decaying and I can actually physically feel it happening.
I now unfortunately know exactly how my mother feels. For a while she was completely obsessed with all forms of quiz show. If it had questions, she would watch it. And she kept going on about having to keep her mind active, and all types of other hackneyed clichéd shit that I can’t remember and don’t want to hear again. But she wasn’t working or going out or anything, just sitting at home decaying as I am now. And in my present state I almost get that.
I just want to be tired. I just want to be done with this.
The worst thing is it’s not like it’s all going to go away and get better after exams. If anything I expect it to get worse. I’ll have a month before I get my results, and another month until I find out if I got in. We won’t be going to Melbourne a quarter as often as I would like; it will be tense, ugly and frustrating and my only escape from my awful, dreary home-life will be my equally dreary job.
And my mother doesn’t get it. Not at all. Not through hours of screaming at each other, because it’s always ‘after exams’ with her. The reason I don’t want to sell my school books yet, isn’t because I don’t want to get into Uni because I love my friends that much, I couldn’t care less; it’s because I am so sick of people counting MY chickens before they have hatched. She doesn’t see the great big powerless void I am facing, which doesn’t start and end with exams. If she wants to send me away to summer camp, fine; if she wants to put me on psychiatric medication, fine. She has work and projects and animals to care for. And I have nothing. Less than nothing, I have nothing and an uncertain future.



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