Cassandra's Dead Sister's Bucket List ✔

-4-

· Katie ·

One day, I'm going to explode.

My English teacher asked us this morning to define ourselves in one word.

Quinn chose "star". Georgina, "sunshine", and Beth, "positive."

When my turn came, I thought of "explosion", and "ticking bomb," but one does not say those words out loud in school. So, after what felt like an eternity, I stuttered, "average."

Quinn threw me a sideways look, implying that I was right because—of course—I was. But as mom always says, one should only voice thoughts when it is utterly necessary. Maybe I should have said "flower" or "glitter" like any of the other girls in the classroom did.

Needless to say, my mom's pedagogy taught me one thing (and I have become really, really good at it): I swallow everything up. Feelings, thoughts, ideas, emotions, insults. I bottle it all in. Once or twice a day, something escapes from my mouth because it is psychologically impossible for me not to let something out. But, mostly, I keep the important things in.

Not everything is bad about me, though. I am good at asking annoying questions, and telling jokes. What a contradiction, right? Freud said that jokes were the voice of the unconscious. So maybe jokes are just my way of voicing my feelings somehow—That's mind-blowing by the way. If you allow me to give you a word of advice I would say: please, don't swallow your feelings like me; it's not healthy at all.

Every day I apply a special lotion on my elbows because I have this rash that gets visually horrible. First, my skin gets sort of sandy, then small bloody bubbles burst out through my pores, making it uncontrollably itchy, and the worst part is that the blood stains my clothes. So, a few months ago, mom took me to the doctor. He prescribed me ointment and advised her to take me to a psychologist. And the latter told me that I need to voice my feelings because that's what makes my skin sandy around the edges.

He is right. I'm not going to argue with him. I have a load of unsaid words, unspeakable emotions, almost-said 'I-love-yous', and a good measure of insults stored somewhere inside my body and I know this: One day, I'm going to explode.

And those rashes I get in my elbows, and sometimes at the back of my ears are just the tip of the iceberg.

Cassandra being here makes me feel like I'm not the only ticking bomb in the world. Although, she is much more open than I am. She utters words as if they were missiles aimed at destroying you and I have only been with her for thirty minutes. My conclusion is that she is already exploding from the inside out.

Mind you, the fact that I swallow my feelings doesn't make me a shy person. And contrary to the popular belief of my school and my parents, I am not an anti-social nerd. I would rather label myself as socially selective—especially after everything I went through in school. And I am not shy, I just cannot be me around people I don't trust, and I have my reasons not to trust them.

However, things are supposed to be different with Cassandra. After everything she went through—as far as I have heard—I cannot be socially selective with her. Also, my parents threatened the three of us to be kind to her. So, we all have to, no matter what.

"Can we call you Cassie?" My mom asks Cassandra. My mother's sweater crinkles around her shoulder, right where dad is holding her with his arm around her. They are under the wooden frame of my bedroom door.

Exhibit #1 of swallowed feelings: Why aren't parents present when we need them? It's crazy they're here today. They didn't manage to be here for my science fair, but they are here for Cassandra's arrival. I hate that they don't even try with me.