What are you to yourself? Has to be the most deficult question I've been asked. What do I say? I'm just a useless pest to my father, and I'm nothing to the universe.
But, what am I to myself? I have no clue. I'm just... Avery. Nothing more, nothing less.
"I-I'm just A-avery." I tell Jean.
Jean is one of therapist in this camp. It's my one on one therapy right now. She asked the same question I was trying to answer, what are you to yourself?
She looks at me for a moment, "I don't think so, I was there at the bond fire. What did you mean whenever you said you were an old teddy bear?"
I sigh, "I-if you f-found an o-old teddy b-bear, and i-it was m-missing an eye w-with a s-small tear, and y-you threw I-it a-away.... w-what would y-you feel?"
"Nothing."
"E-exactly, I could b-be here o-or I c-couldn't... Y-you would f-feel n-nothing either w-way." I explain.
"And that's how you feel? Like nothing?" Jean asked.
"N-not nothing," I say, "N-nothing to e-everyone."
Jean nods, and starts writing notes in her notebook. Soon, she leaves- right after she gives me a journal from her bag and said she recommends writing, saying it helped her.
I look at the journal, wondering if I should write. I never had tried it before, but I have so much pent up feelings it was worth a shot.
The journal is really... enchanting. It's brown leather, and maybe an inch thick. There's different beads and emerald like stones on them shaper in leaves. There one really big emerald that's a sun in the corner.
What am I expose to write?
I just start writing, the words in my heart go to my brain through my arm in my hand to the pen in the ink that leaks to the paper. I write until my hand is tired and my brain hurts, and I look over what I wrote:
I look through the room and see broken glass.
The broken glass talks but doesn't speak.
The broken glass hears but can't listen.
The broken glass dreams, but doesn't believe.
The broken glass allows but doesn't accept.
The broken glass is now shattered.
That's all it ever can be, shattered.
The broken glass doesn't speak because it's too shattered.
The broken glass doesn't listen because it can't believe.
The broken glass can only do one thing:
Cut.
Wow.
I don't see what the big deal is, this is depressing. I wrote it, and I still think nobody could relate to it. The broken glass metaphors a broken person. But after writing that, I feel less... heavy and sad. It's sorta weird...
"What ya doin'?"
I jump at the sudden noise and turn to see Reece. He's wearing a baggy sweatshirt, jeans, and his normal burgundy vans. I'm not going to lie, he's...good looking.
"I-I was j-just writing." I stutter.
I don't talk to Reece much, I've only talk to him a few times.
"Oh, cute." He says walking towards the table and sitting down next to me. I can't help but blush.
"Y-y-yeah." I stutter.
"Can I read it?" Reece asked.
"S-sure."
Reece starts to read my poem, his eyebrows are furrowed and her looks confused yet curious.
"Does the broken glass represent people?" He asked, surprising me.
"Uh, y-yeah."
He smiled at me, "You compared broken glass to people? That is-"
"Stupid?"
He chuckles, "Very different, not much people think like you do Avery. I think you are very talented."
I blush, "Uh, Th-thank you."
"We all do something to let out steam."
"W-what do you do?"
"I don't do much, I just work out a bit." He explains.
I hum in answer.
"It helps me, I guess, I can let my anger out on weights not people." He sighs.
"C-can you explain?" I asked.
He looks at me, the look that says: 'Duck no.'
"S-sorry, I-I just wanted t-to get to know you better." I sigh.
His eyes soften a bit, "I know, but it's just to personal. I'll tell you some other time, maybe."
I just nod.
Reece left in a hurry, and didn't even say good bye. He just got up and left. I don't know why, he just looked frustrated.
I hope I didn't make him uncomfortable...
But, I want to know who Reece Macintyre is.
And not the nice boy on the outside,
The dead, broken boy that wants to be fixed.
The piece of broken glass that is scared to cut.
~~~~~~~
Avery's journal---->
It's like 1am right now so, ya'll better like it!
Thanks for reading! <3
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Outcast and Wallflowers
Teen FictionAvery Light has been abused from her father since she was five. Her aunt found her though, and took her to a therapy camp called Foreverland. Avery is a person that just wants to live, and stop being jittery. She stutters most of her sentences, and...
