Your arctic ice eyes could bring the world down with just a glance. The passion in your heart will always bring a smile to my face. The freckles you hate are the mark of the sun that kissed your skin. I will always miss you. I will miss that summer we swang on the metal swing set and looked up the stars, hoping we could fly away. I will miss your laugh that filled the room. Last I saw you, those eyes still shone brighter than any star that shone above us. Your passion made me want to hold your thin frame, in hopes that a fraction would fade into me. Your freckles were more prominent than ever. All your features still held true without me. You are doing fine without me. If you had really looked at me that night in May, you wouldn’t be surprised. My eyes still glaze over when I talk to people. My face is still pale and sickly. My passion is still dwindling. I wish I still had you. I wish I could still call you a friend. I wish you saw me as a friend. Please don’t ever change. Please continue to give the world the hell it deserves. Please always be the kind and strong girl I love.
Sap clings to the evergreen trees surrounding my house made of brick. Insects call to each other and bats fly between the trees. The summer sky hold stars dimmed by the light of Denver, a city of people contrasting the quiet of the Rocky Mountains. I sit on the moonlit porch, feeling the summer breeze pull at my short hair. Colorado. A state of mostly flat farmland, interrupted by the sharp mountains. Where wildlife is yet to leave. Where the air is thin and dry. I love this state.
My room is a mess. Clothes litter my floor. Dishes inhabit my desk. Dark circles hang on my eyes. The tan I gained from the beach has faded to my original skin tone. I should get up and do something worth my time. I should get up and be social, but when I did, I just got turned down again and again. Each time I tried to invite some one over, they forgot or said no, causing my shoulders to grow heavier. When I try, I get turned down. When I don’t, no one cares. My sister lives with her head up high and a light around her. How does she do it? I can’t go more than a month without feeling so heavy I can’t get out of bed. She has friends who care. She’s not afraid to live. Mom says I should go back on my meds, but that thought sends a shudder down my spine. Mom says I should make new friends, but I’m scared. I’m scared of what they will think. I can’t tell my mom that. I really tried to be happy and I was for a month or two, but my mind caught up with me. I’m stuck.
I look over the ocean as it tugs at my toes. Angry waves crash, leaving white foam behind. My sisters walk behind me with freckles blooming on their noses. A gust of wind pulls the hair from my face. The beautiful beach of Gulf Shores, Alabama stretches out around me. I stand there, basking in the heat of an unforgiving sun and allow sand to cling to my ankles. I don’t care about a thing. A left all of my worries and stress at home, I left that in Colorado. Right now, I’m free from everything. Sure, I would prefer a quiet meadow under a cloudless sky full of stars, but this is still bliss. For the first time in a while, the summer doesn’t seem daunting. I’m not afraid of the lack of structure that kills me every year. No. This year I won’t let it affect me. I won’t let my thoughts take control of me because I don’t have school to take hold of my brain. I will make an effort to hang out with my friends. To reconnect with old ones. Maybe make some new ones. This is my sixteenth summer and it will be wonderful.
Today, I will share with you a bit about my life. It is not very exciting, but I would like for you guys to get to know me better and for me to get to know you, so here are ten things about me.
- I have three little sisters (Courtney, Caroline, and Sara).
- I plan to someday get my PhD in geology.
- I have three pets that inhabit my room: a crested gecko, a leopard gecko, and a russian tortoise.
- I peaked in kindergarten. (I was super social, now I’m kind of a hermit)
- I work at an after school program at my local elementary school.
- I am sixteen years old.
- I eat a lot of candy. I’m surprised my teeth haven’t fallen out.
- Growing up, I struggled to read and was behind most of my peers.
- I love anime especially the art of it.
- This is what I look like:
Thanks for reading.
I am not naïve. I am not weak. I am not stupid. I know that people are hurting. I’ve seen it. I may not drink or have sex or smoke pot, but, my dear friend, do not be mistaken. I know it happens. Why do you look down on me? Why do look at me like a child when, in fact, I am older? It’s almost like you pity me. You pity my lack of recklessness. Well, I am afraid that palace you have built will fall. You will no longer feel like you’re on the top of the world when you wake up with a splitting headache and a few sparse memories you regret. I may hate myself for letting my teenage years pass me by. I may even hope for a another chance. I will, however, never hope that I am like you. I will never wish for your condescending glare or your harsh tongue. Do not treat me like a fragile piece of cracked china. A piece that could break with the slightest touch. Look at me as an equal. An equal with different experiences and a different past, but a fellow human being none the less.
“Don’t be like me, Emma,” my mother said with a look of desperation in her eyes. Her dark hair clung to her tear-soaked cheeks. I had made my mom cry. My heart seemed too heavy for my chest. “Don’t be stupid with your body. Don’t be stupid with your future,” she said. I wanted to tell her that she wasn’t stupid. Despite what they had told her, she wasn’t ever stupid. She was young and so was everyone else. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he convinced her that she was dirty. That she was something other than amazing. She didn’t do anything wrong. Why
was she is she so convinced that she was bad and a terrible person? He told her that. He did things that were worse. Things that she didn’t dare tell me at that time.
That day I had promised my mother that I would make stellar grades. I wouldn’t let boys touch me. I wouldn’t give up. Not because I wanted to, but because the look in mom’s eyes told me that she was desperate. Desperate for a child to make up for what she thought were her shortcomings. No matter how many times I’ve told her that she didn’t do anything wrong, she won’t believe me. My mother is the most beautiful, strong, and kindest woman I’ve ever met, so I’ve kept my promise.
I am the oldest. I need to turn out right. I need to stop being a child. I want to make my mother proud. So far, I have. I haven’t gone near any drugs, alcohol, or guys. I’m sixteen. I just finished my sophomore year of highschool. I sit in my room and read. I don’t hang out with my friend very much. Is this what she wants? Does she want me to isolate myself in order to become the perfect daughter? I want to go to parties. I want to be a teenager. I want to stay out late and have fun, but I don’t.
My mom and I have never had a fight that resulted in yelling. I sit and take orders and do not disobey. I don’t want my mom to think she has failed as a mother, so I don’t fight back. Some twisted part of me wants to fight. I want to tell her that she’s wrong, but I can’t. I can’t because when I look at her, everything that makes me angry melts away.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t sit and watch as my sister tears herself apart from the inside out. I can’t watch another one slip farther away from reality. I don’t know what to do. My mother is trying her best to stay afloat, but I think she’s slipping. I am trying to stay afloat as well, but I’m not doing very well. My dad’s side of the family is tearing at the seams and he’s trying to mend it. My mother’s family has always been torn apart. I can’t just sit and watch as shit hits the fan, but I can’t do much either. I’m told to wait and keep my mouth shut. I am only sixteen after all. My opinion does not matter. I want to scream. I want to stomp and yell and tell them what they did was wrong or to stop holding onto the past. I can’t though. I can’t because they’re all dealing with their own things in their head. Things that I don’t pretend to understand.
I’ve been on antidepressants for about four years and I stopped taking them couple of weeks ago. Being on meds for me was interesting. I started going on meds in the sixth grade and now I’m in the tenth. I have next to no memory of my life in middle school. I remember who my friends were and favorite teachers were, but I don’t remember any events. I don’t even remember much from last year. It’s kind of scary how much of my memories are missing. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to make memories now and maybe learn how to cope with something I’ll have to deal with forever. I also did something very stupid. When I decided not to take my meds anymore, I didn’t slowly stop taking them. I just decided to quit taking them abruptly. I felt like crap, not just emotionally, but physically. I was bloated and couldn’t focus on anything. Every time I moved, I felt like I was being shocked throughout my body. By the time spring break is over, the medicine will hopefully be out of my system. I can’t help but wonder what it will be like without them during school. I’ll keep you guys posted.
Wish me luck.
I can’t seem to get a grip on my reality and my memories won’t stick in my brain. My life should be excitement. I mean, I have all the ingredients most deem necessary, but something’s missing. Time is slipping through my fingers and I’m running out of it quickly, but he won’t give me much more. I repeat the same tasks over and over again. I wait for something to change, but it will always be this way. I’m running in circles, but I can’t break the cycle. It will always be this way.