Who am I?

I will go out to the bay and I will sit. I will sit on the cold, salty ground and look out at the rolling sea of an indescribable colour. And I will look out until I can look no further. My eyes soon meet with distant shadows of land so I stop. I can hear their voices but they don't notice me. Hair and eyes blend into seaweed. Skin becomes sand. A grey skirt fades into the wall and my breath is carried away by a hollow wind.

Ten years from now, wherever I end up, I don't want to forget who I am now. These words won't mean a lot to other people but, for me, they sum up who I am at the moment. 

She is one of the first to arrive at school and when she does it is empty so she notices things that seem to disappear as soon as the next person arrives. There is a lot of glass in her school- the glass is dark and reflective. Sometimes she likes the way her reflection looks in the glass. But that makes her feel vain. Other times, she can be having a nice day until the glass reminds her what she looks like. So she has become afraid of her own reflection and tries to avoid looking at glass. 

She goes through the day without thinking. She works reasonably hard in most subjects, especially Maths. She particularly enjoys drama but dislikes woodwork as her teacher believes she is an exceptionally incompetent student. Most of her teachers like her to some degree. 

Some days, she gets the bus home. She will risk being late for it sometimes all for a chance of bumping into him. She reads on the bus but sometimes she is distracted- distracted by a view she has seen a thousand times; fifty shades of green and some red barns. 

If she gets the bus then it means that her mother is working late that night. She either cooks herself dinner or her mother gives her money to buy something. In those occasions she will buy a sub and eat it on the beach. If the tide is out, she will sit underneath a cafe and a stone wall, out of sight but if the tide is in then she sits on a stone ramp and watches the sea, thinking about stuff. 

Her bedroom is brown and cream. There is a collage of photographs and memories in one corner. The curtains are long, yellow and one is longer than all the others which annoys her but she hopes that writing it down will make her realise how utterly stupid that is. She is grateful. In total, there are five plants in her room. On her rickety bedside table (which her mother picked up from the dump) resides an orchid. The blossoms are usually purple but they have all fallen off. She hopes they will grow back.

When she baths, she likes to watch steam come off the water's surface and close her eyes, pretending to be nowhere and thinking about nothing. 

She likes a person with light brown hair and glasses. He likes reading, plays guitar/ukulele and is exceedingly kind. He seems to good too be true so she suspects he is gay.

She does know what she wants to do with her life. She is busy. She thinks. She compares herself to other people and then feels bad about it. She notices. She breathes. She enjoys breathing.