The Act of Letting Go

chapter one

Every morning, I have this daily routine. I wake up and immediately regret it. Getting up each morning is a struggle.

After I have convinced myself to get out of bed, I go down stairs. Lifting each leg to walk downstairs was like carrying big blocks of concrete. I entered the kitchen and ignored the "good mornings" from my parents.

Honestly, I do love my parents. You can obviously see that they are trying to not make my life a miserable wreck but the damage is already done. This is what life has given me so I have to stick with it. Nothing can change what's already been done.

Ever since the day that I have
become an unbalanced human being, my parents have been trying to help me. Trying to get me to talk about it to them, to a therapist and even taken me to talks with other people with similar experiences. I think it's just best for me to keep these things to myself.

As I said, nothing that I do or anyone will do would change what's already been done.

But she wouldn't like you keeping it to yourself.

My inner thoughts always do this. They're mostly the reason why I can't let go. Everything I do, they always bring it back to her. They miss her just as much as I do.

Once I have gotten myself a bowl of coco pops, I sat down at the table with them. I slouched over my bowl and started to eat. We were all faced with an awkward silence. I kept my head down watching each coco pop colour being drained in my milk making it a cocoa colour.

Without moving my head, my eyes watched through my thick dark chestnut hair, my parents having a full blown conversation with their eyes.

They're practically saying "You talk to him."

"What do you expect me to say?"

"Just anything!"

With a defeated look my dad says, "How are you today, Erin?". God, I hate my name.

I shrugged my shoulders but keeping my head down. I looked up to see my mam giving me a worrisome look so I added "I'm alright".

And just like that we were back into an awkward silence.

Again, my parents had a muted conversation. From the looks of it, my dad was completely giving up on trying to talk to me. My mam was more of a trooper and was strong minded.

She looked around our small blue kitchen to see if there was anything to talk about. I feel sorry for my parents. They seem to be forced to talk to me. Why can't they just accept the fact that I don't want to talk to anyone. Especially in the morning.

She glanced outside of the window that was right over the sink. The summer sun was pouring through the small, dirty window. The suns rays shone into her eyes, giving them an amber glow.

I loved my mam's eyes. Not to be weird or anything but when the light just touches them perfectly, it's memorising. I was always jealous of them.

Unfortunately, I've gotten my dad's light green eyes but she always loved them. She would look deeply into them and softy touched my cheek as she pulls in closer and closer until.. - no. I can't be thinking about her.

But you always do.

I tried to block out my inner thoughts and get back to reality.

"Why don't you go to the park?", my mam suggested. "Today seems to be lovely also you haven't been out of the house in a while."

As I finish eating my chocolaty cereal, I consider going or not. The park wasn't really my to-go place. I have too many memories there that I want to forget.

"You could always bring Perry with you to keep you company.", she suggested again.

I would bring him along but in fairness, Per wouldn't be up at 12am. He's a guy who loves his sleep and masters being a procrastinator. Even though he does have his lazy characteristics, he's a great and loyal friend. He's stuck with me through all of the bad. I don't know what I'd do without him.

I took one for the team and decided to go to the park. At least my parents won't be pestering me for the day.

With that, my mam gave me a closed mouthed smile. You could see every creese and wrinkle that outlines her face also revealing one dimple on her left cheek, just like mine.

I went back to my room and changed from my PJ's into something that looks decent enough. My definition of decent is a white t-shirt, a black hoodie and jeans and topping it off with my signature Chucks.

I trudged down the stairs to see my mam standing beside the front door. She would never let me leave the house without a goodbye kiss on the cheek and an "I love you".

I mumbled it back to her, half heartedly and walked out the door, pulling my hood up. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and headed down to the park.

It can't be that bad, right?

• • • • • • • •

I hoped you enjoyed the first chapter of "The Act of Letting Go"

Don't judge my writing as this is my first book.

Thanks for reading.