Fractured Heartstrings

Ch. 28

Alyssa's POV

It took a lot of consideration in me, over the span of sleepless nights, boring classes, and any other time of the day I was sober to conclusively decide.

I wasn't too fond about the whole category of school or anything tied around it. Frankly, I've never been enthusiastic for the jammed studying and rushed essays, nor was I an extraordinary student. Half the time in grade school through high school, I lost marks due to my careless attitude towards it. My picturing of school was a prison. In fact, back in my young elementary years I had been assigned an art project. The assignment consisted of including our school and the way we pictured it. I cluelessly scribbled up my masterpiece and fantasy of school, a prison. You see, my main point is, I was never the Einstein of science or any other course for that matter. I was never considered a teacher's favourited pet.

Until I failed nearly every class and course, I never acknowledged how important school was. In some ways I found myself extremely lucky that I was the humble person, besides, it was better than suffering anxiety. My poor classmate, Claire, had an extreme panic attack that she ended up in an institution for the remainder of her life. Poor soul never lived peacefully and never enjoyed the break of dawn again.

It was late, sometime around midnight as I lay on my bed pondering many things on my mind - rather than finishing a report due the next day. Ever since the hospital released me, the classes I've missed has adversely whacked me in the head. I didn't need to hear the teachers groan or my clueless classmates complain and worry of my grades. Speaking of this, I didn't need to check my grades - I knew well enough of how I was doing. I was failing. This is why the flashback stroke my mind one after the other, it's why I no longer bother to try, and it's why I've decided to drop out completely.

The whole consideration process didn't take one night's time. Over the weeks, failure after failure, I slowly began realizing what I had wanted. Maybe teacher's college wasn't the direction I was destined to be headed, but maybe in the path of a humanitarianism. Despite its true, I confess, there are some days I'd give up world peace for a Hershey's pice of caramel chocolate. This is what I want to do.

"I'm going to do it!" I exclaim to the air after arising from my bed. My hand's lofted in the air and so is my soul, I'm in high spirits at this moment.

I roll of my bed in a hurry, managing to avoids slipping on my bed's sheets. I bolt to my phone hurriedly and speedily open the contacts. I locate my mother's name and dial her wonderfully-un-memorized cell number.

"Hello dear! What is it?" She answers on the first ring. If there was one thing I absolutely admired about my mother, it was not only her baking skills, but her remarkably fast answering techniques. Didn't matter if she was on the toilet or or hosting a party - she'd answer as of the phone was forever next to her.

I bring my mind back to my mother on the other line, giggling in humour. "I was curious as to what you and dad were doing tomorrow. I suggest we go out for lunch, my treat."

"That's wonderful, we're about as free as love," my mom chirped.

I grin and begin to pace around the room, old habits. "Awesome. Same place. Twelve o'clock." After briefly hearing my mother hum a goodbye, I hung up the cell phone and signed in relief. I wasn't much of an actress, but when I was engaged to talking to my parents, glory was that ever another story.

I plop onto my comfortable bed, bouncing from the springs popping out beneath the mattress. I rest my head up against the headboard and slowly shut my eyes. I hear my heart beat up my throat. Thump. Thump. Thump.

I wince from the mild pain of my headache. After the accident leaving bruising and scratches covering my face, I found myself suffering more. Who knew love could create this? Was this even such love? Had it truly gotten to a point where the world stood against us?