Not Unique

Reason

CHAPTER 2

The stifling weight of silence weighted upon the epaulets sewed with intricate embroidery patterns upon my stiff shoulders. Stiff because of crowded bodies that press, rub, and smear the evils of their daily lives on my frame or because of the weight of the papers in my hands. I trick myself into saying the former. The paper weighs a ton, more than the fresh bowl of fish Gran would purchase at the market every weekend back at Edenvale. The paper that would determine my future, that would decide if I get a good living for my family, sheets of plants that would determine the power shift in the home this big moving car I currently stand in.

Verily, one wouldst deem that even with all the technological advancements we've made, the trains wouldst have been made more economical. Yet, today is Monday; the busiest day of the week. Proof of this can be seen in the rowdiness of the behemoth rectangle of iron I find myself in, forced to stand side by side with strangers. It wouldst be quite intimidating were it not for mine towering stature. Thanks be to many years of Football and Farm work back in the hot quiet country that Gran so much adores. I reminisce with a smile, but then frown rememb'ring the papers that weigh my hands down and yet, fill me with unspeakable hope.

"It must mean my acceptance, for it to weigh this much," I say to meself as I jiggle the papers in mine hands, trying to discern the words enclosed within the brown envelope. The weight of the moment presses in on me, as I shall stall no longer.

With a steady hand, I rip open the envelope with care and perhaps a bit of worry. It takes me half the day, or so it seems, to muster the courage to see what lay inside.

"I won't go back home if this is a show of my defeat," I grimace, recalling the endless nights in my surly room as I sit by the lamp, my desk shoved against my chest. I recall Ma bringing me late-night snacks, sweet fruits to ease mine sorrows. She brought me fruit for three days, three months, three years. Three years since I laid mine eyes on M, the world's top university, here in Mother America. Three years of training hard, three years of lessons, three years of making friends and losing friends - mostly losing friends. Friends who claimed it was all for naught.

Yet, here in mine own hands lay the result of mine success. Maybe I was stalling, but never again. The weight of the world was upon me, more tense than the moment on field when the Ref's lips would kiss on the black plastic, signaling the beginning of the match. More tension than when I race down the green fields, searching for my teammates as I spot at least five others from the opposing team closing in on me. Racing at me like a predator would at a hurt prey.

I take a deep breath to calm mine quaking breath, feeling it in mine legs, mine lungs, mine neck, mine spine. The tension was palpable, threatening to tug me down to my knees. But I stand tall at 6'3 and refuse to let the weight of the world bring me down.

"Take a deep breath Xander" I have the habit of talking to myself when I feel stressed. But I'm not stressed. My hands tremble. I'll need to take a seat for this one, so I do. I settle back down on my chair with my bag heavy on my back.

I pull out the crisp white plant from the brown covering and it echoes in the quiet train. I lick my lips. Deep breath. Dry throat. I lick my lips again.

Dear Xander Lopez

...

You've been accepted into QWUG (Queen Wisteria University for Geniuses)

I let out a cold breath I have been holding in my throat, my legs pull to each other, hug and rub each other to hold back the piss I would have undoubtedly let go if I had seen any words otherwise.

"No fucking way" I look down. A smile on my lips but I feel angry because of that, it makes me feel constipated. I feel dissatisfied. 'This is what mom wanted' I got it. 'So why act like a newborn when you should jubilate like Ma did when news of Olivia's pregnancy first came'I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.