Mind Full of Fine Lines Pt. 1

Mind Full of Fine Lines Pt. 1

A Story by Kari Fernandez

This will probably be edited a million times before I'm happy with it. But I like this character; I think I'm going to stick with this one. Let me know what you think


The sun woke me up. I had no blinds or curtains, so the sun always woke me up. I could sleep with it there for a little while, but after too long, it just became too difficult. I prefer clouds, personally. Especially in the winter. The sun in winter was a false hope. It would cheer you up until you stepped outside. You still needed a damn jacket.

I turned on the lamp, even though I didn’t need it. The room was bright already. I didn’t really want to get out of bed, but if I didn’t now, I might never. I got up and walked to the fridge in hopes of finding something to eat. The kitchen was a real mess. The whole house was, really, but the kitchen especially. I was beginning to get a headache from being in that place. Forget food; I had to get out of here.

I got dressed and brushed my hair. Looking in the mirror made things worse. I looked like a slob. I lived like a slob. I really had to get out of there.  Just for a walk. I almost left without shoes on. After I was sure I looked acceptable, I left my apartment without even locking the door.

The city was very busy, because it was Saturday. I hated living in the city. Everyone was too easy to figure out. I could see a man in a business suit walking by, and know what he was thinking. Not because I’m psychic or anything. Everyone in the city was just too easy to figure out.

 There was a family walking in front of me, the parents and a small boy. That’s something you don’t see often. Families walking downtown, all together. Usually people are too busy. This particular family was walking slowly, though, so I thought I’d walk past them. But I decided not to as I got closer, because suddenly, this family was very interesting to me. They weren’t speaking to each other. Just walking. The mother was holding the hand of the boy, and the father was just walking next to the mother. But very closely. They never said a word, not even the little boy. I followed them all the way to the park.

My pace slowed, and after awhile, I had lost the family. I looked around the park and saw a lot of happiness. It felt as if the world was moving either too fast or too slow, and I was standing in the midst of it. Alone. I realized I was crying. First the nice family depressed me. Then the pigeons depressed me. And the trees, that looked very beautiful blowing in the wind, depressed me. I needed to sit down, because I couldn’t breathe well. I found a bench under a tree, and closed my eyes very tightly.

I could no longer hear anything around me. The ground felt very still. The air was thick and cold. I couldn’t blink; I’d forgotten my eyes were closed. My lungs felt dry and cracked, and every breath I took felt like inhaling dry ice. Perhaps the desert floor felt similar when a cold breeze whipped through it, stirring up dirt and slapping it in the face. But I couldn’t know. How could I?

I considered the fact that I may be insane.  I’d considered it before. Either way, I was convinced that no other person had ever felt like I did. Or perhaps thought like I did. My thoughts were too much for my mind to handle. They seemed like tangible objects taking up too much space in my head. I always felt like that, but it was getting harder to act like I didn’t.

I finally opened my eyes and looked around, only to realize that people were staring at me. They looked worried, and I hated them for it. The park was no place to go insane, so I stood up and started walking. I wasn’t sure where to go. It felt like the middle of the night, but the sun was shining above my head.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Excuse me, miss?”  I turn around to see a middle aged man staring back at me. I looked at him for awhile. He looked worried.

“Hm?”  I mumbled. I hadn’t meant to sound annoyed, but I was, and it showed.

“Um, is there,” he paused. He didn’t seem to know what to say. “Is there somebody I can call for you? You’re shaking pretty badly.”

“What? No. No, I’m just cold.” I walked away quickly, though I couldn’t help but glance back. He was still just standing there, like an idiot. I hated him.

© 2009 Kari Fernandez

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Added on March 1, 2009


Kari Fernandez
Kari Fernandez

Bellingham, WA

I'm 17 years old. And...I don't know. I can't think of anything interesting about myself. more..

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