Author: Timera Gaston

One of the times that I have used my intuition, be it though I don’t use it often, have to be back in 6th grade. Back then I was very awkward,shy and extremely fearful of all human interaction not counting my own family. I was known for being quiet and reserved and as of the new school year,friendless. I had a reputation of being a tattle-tell and a cry baby. my only friend, Brittany had moved away two weeks prior to the new school year and I was mortified. But I didn’t stay that way I gained a little confidence of the course of the summer and I thought I was prepared to face new people and show everyone a new and improved me. It didn’t go that way at all.

Upon arriving at the first day of school I walked the new halls, the middle school halls, much bigger than the elementary’s. Within those halls, i felt insignificant, small and weak among the other students much older than myself, already familiar with this strange place chatting with their friends and walking to classes. It was a sad sight to say the least.

When I came to my class I stopped at a group of lockers four inches away from the door. I try to ease my tremors and my beating heart not wanting to look too childish, I was stronger than that. So when I finally took those steps and peered into the classroom, I froze and the sea of unfamiliar faces and any resolve I had crumbled. I ran out, and back to those lockers I stood at not even a full minute ago and cried. My teacher who looked extremely worried at my state asked why I was crying and if she could do anything to help. In explaining to her my fear of new people, new things and experiences and she seemed bewildered, she then pointed at the class list. On the list was all of my classmates that were in that room. She told me to pick a name from the list who I knew. I looked over the list several times names that I knew were there but of past bullies and vague memories of short conversation from previous years. That’s when I saw it, the one name which for some reason I remembered. Some part of me spoke to me that day almost pushing my finger towards that name and did. The teacher then walked inside and brought out the girl I chose, a short Mexican girl with long brown hair and a blue feather stuck at the top. She took my hand and led me into the classroom.

Now the same girl who I picked that fateful first day of school is the same girl who helped me get into this school the girl who stuck by my side through my worst moments and my greatest. She is the one decision that I will forever be grateful that I made. That girl’s name was Lilly Flores.

I think there may be something wrong with the world. For some unknown reason, the world seems to waver at times and distort in front of my eyes. There are moments when I can see everything for what it is. There are others where reality mixes with my imagination. At these moments dragons walk to work on Tuesday mornings. Fish wave to friends from across the street as they wiggle their way onto the bus heading for a place that only leaves my dreams, and my peers don’t seem real. They’re a haze a figment of my hyperactive mind. I will touch their skin and feel warm flesh underneath my fingertips, but can’t dream seem that way as well. Pain and longing and happiness are not limited to what we deem to be the reality. What type of space am I in at the current time, a limbo of mismatched world or too tired to deem anything real from the way my mind mingles with that of my nightmares?

I walked through a school of giants and pixies, fairy’s with God complexes and werewolves that told way too many jokes. Wizards disguised as band instructors waving their magic wands, making us dance to a repetitive beat. I didn’t think anyone else saw this world, I was alone to walk this school of monsters and ghost-like friends. At some point, I even was sure that I was kidnapped by aliens. I swore if I looked out the back window of my bus I would see everything melt away and maybe then could I get a glimpse of far greater technology proving my theory correct, but I saw no such things.

I jump at the chance to make this world true. And maybe it is in different ways I can’t prove that it is false. Very similarly how no one can prove it to be real. This is just the way everything is for me and I come to accept that. I am in a fairy tale world of most peculiar circumstances and ways. But I believe that to be better than any normal day, despite that fact that as I grow older that the world fades away ever so slightly I can still see the traits of what it still is. Even now I’ve seen a poodle disguised as a teacher as a lioness writes about her deepest woes. I wonder if they themselves know what they are but probably not.

What is a comfort Zone? It’s that warm feeling you get when you can finally come home after a long day of too much stress and not enough play. It’s that rush of relief knowing you could finally let go of the harsh world and just melt into your blankets and stop thinking for a moment. They’re the essential part of human function an escape,  a place of no judgment and no lies or insecurities. Comfort zones could be anything that helps you enter a state of calm security.  It could be a time of reflection where you can sit alone and think about your day process everything that happened with a clear mind. For example, a comfort space for me has always been under blankets. There is a sense of peace being surrounded by a soft cover shrouding myself in complete darkness and shutting out any outside forces. During this time I let my mind wander in this space I can think about anything and everything, under blankets we hide from demons and monsters that may lurk under our beds from the demons tapping on our windows at night to the shadow creature peering at you from the closet. I hide from the stress and responsibility, it’s a comfort knowing nothing can get you while you hide from view.