Abigail was brought back to time with a creak that startled her. She checked her phone and noticed that she had been in the room for almost seven hours.She couldn't believe that neither of her parents came up to check on her, but also they knew how hard it would be to say goodbye. Abigail wiped the remaining tears on her face, then got up and walked to the door, glancing one last time at the room that harbored her for so long. She took every detail in and inhaled the smell that she always associated with home one last time. After a few seconds, she walked out with a slam that echoed so loudly as if begging for her to stay some more.
Downstairs, her parents fell asleep leaning on each other on the couch. Tiptoeing, Abigail passed by them, her chest elevated by the sight of them together. In a quick and soundless motion, she picked up her jacket from the hanger and exited the front door. It was night then, and the weather chilled up a lot, the blazing morning seemed seasons ago in contrast to the breezy night. Abigail then got into her car, contemplating whether she had the courage to go where she was about to go. She knew it though: she had to make peace with the place. With a loud sigh, Ab started the engine and began her journey.
On her way to her destination Ab thought about how her school years treated her, and she acknowledged fully how terribly they affected her at the time. However, what Ab failed to come with an explanation with was how they haunted her for years later. The suffering that she has endured throughout college and her working life exceeded the pain she had felt during her actual trauma. The lack of companionship, fear of people, and the constant overworking; it was all an unsuccessful way of getting over her past. The dyed roots, done fingernails, and the heavy makeup: the fake persona of a strong independent woman that she played every day, it was wearing her out.
She had lost her identity a long time ago, and perhaps that was a very average teenage thing, but her teenage years weren't what she would call average. They weren't as painful as some other people might've had it, yet they affected her so gruesomely. It was so petrifying to her how every detail in her life was dominated by an anxious knot inside of her that was still shaken up by her past. This was why she needed the do this, she needed to move on. She wanted the worst years of her life to end.
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Floating Through Life ✔️
Historia CortaChoices are made, then accumulated from fragments into a representation of a being. Opinions are cultivated, a passion blooms into a soul. But what if some girl out there was living in total apprehension of what she was that she lived as someone sh...
