The World That Was Mine (Part I & II)

Part II:IV

I have never been the type to attach myself to other people. I have always been too cynical, too worldly to allow myself to ever get too close to anyone who I couldn't be sure would stay. And I could never be sure anyone would stay. No one could.

It's a tragic thing when you realize how dangerous attachment can be. It's a losing game. An inevitable source of pain that most of us will never be able to avoid. The smartest of us will try. We will close ourselves off, not allow ourselves or others to ever get too close to the depths of the shallow hearts we all fight so hard to protect. I like to think I am among the smartest of us, if for no other reason than my self-inflicted isolation. I am detached. I am isolated. I am solitary. Even on the days, I wish I wasn't.

There are days when my seclusion weighs heavy on my soul. Days when I wish I could be as naive and optimistic as everyone else. Days when I wish I could be like everyone else. That feeling, though far from unfamiliar, has always been a particularly bitter one. The feeling of being unlike everyone else. Being the opposite of what I should be. Attachment is like forbidden fruit for someone like me. A sweet feeling I'll always crave. Until bitter reality takes over. And sooner or later, it always does.

"We're here!" A shrill voice overtook the silence of the car, making me snap my eyes open in surprise and slight panic. Dragging me, hook line and sinker, back to reality. My sisters bouncing from crowded my line of vision as I reoriented myself with my surroundings for the second time today. I had almost fallen asleep. Almost. After an 8-hour car ride, of which me and whoever the driver may have been at any given point were the only ones still awake, I had finally managed to get my anxiety-filled brian quiet enough to potentially make up for the last of rest I'd gotten over the last several weeks, but true to the pattern of my existence, I had no such luck. Emma squealed again, like a little kid on Christmas. My head throbbed in protest of the high-pitched noise.

Migraines were nothing out of the ordinary these days. Between sleep deprivation and my hearing aids, they had become an inevitable part of my existence. A painful one too. I had gotten used to a lot of discomforts in my life, but the stabbing pain in my head was one I had yet to adjust to. But give it time, I kept telling myself. You'll get used to this pain. Just like you did all the rest of them.

"Izzy!" Emma's head popped up over the seat in front of me. My eyes widened a tinge at the almost crazed look on my sister's face. I had never seen her so excited. But then again, these were a lot of parts of my sister I had never seen. And some I had seen too much. "Izzy, we're here!" She grabbed onto my wrist in a vice grip. She didn't seem to notice when I pushed her off.

Finley's head popped up beside Emmas, seeming equal as giddy. "Iz, are you excited?" My brother asked. I forced a small smile and nodded. Far from it, to be truthful. But I knew better than to think that's what Finley was looking to hear from me. It wouldn't fit his, or anyone else's ideas of how I should feel. And I was never one to go against ideals.

"Is she awake back there?" I made out the sound of Jaces voice from the driver's seat. I guess sometimes while I was dozing off, he and Nolan must have switched. One would think between the chaos my brothers caused with everything they did and the pestering buzz of hearing aids, I would have picked up on the changes within the car. I haven't taken my hearing aids out since this morning. I hadn't dared. There are few things I detest more than conflict and few things that I care about less than my comfort. I would always do what I had to avoid strife, even at the cost of my well-being.