Flaws, Flames, & Flashes

I.

All my life, I've tried and I've failed. Everything I do is wrong. Even when I think it's right, it's wrong. I give things my all but it's never enough. I've done good and only received bad in return. I give people my heart and they hand it back scarred, fractured, and hollow. The worst thing is that I keep going. I pretend to be unbreakable, cold, and reckless but sometimes, my imperfection gets the best of me. When that happens I fall, and wish I had never kept trying and trying because I knew, even before, that at the end, the only one that was going to get hurt was me. When I'm about to tumble of the edge, the only way to balance my feet on the ground is to run. Run away from the problems and hide.

I laid in the comfort of my bed, realizing that it had taken me hours maybe even days (I'm not really sure) to find the solution to my current complications and remove the worries that were now trapped inside my head but I did it because I'm valiant and indestructible, stronger than my enemies.

I untwined the duvet from around my body and walked over to my bathroom. I stood in front of my vanity. Placing my hands on the sink and gripping the edges, I looked at the my reflection in the mirror. My usual tamed dirty blond hair was frizzy and out of control. Black circles are beginning to form under my puffy, blood shot, olive green eyes. My lips were swollen and chapped. I looked pathetic, horrifying almost. I need a long shower and a huge cup of coffee.

Pulling my gigantic hoodie over my head and taking of my bra and underwear, I jump into the shower and turn the lever. As the cold water hits my skin, I gasp for air, opening and closing my eyes as the water glides down my body like oil paint sliding down a canvas. The feeling of relief filled me, almost as if all my burdens were being washed away and were now flowing down the drain.

After washing my hair and shaving, I stepped out onto the small white bath rug laying alongside the tub. Picking a towel from the shelves on the wall, I walk out and into my bedroom. I unfold the towel and roll it around my body, strolling over to the closet. I pulled some ripped denim jeans and a red tee of their hangers. Walking back over to my nightstand and frantically searching for my phone under the huge mess of paper and pop tart wrappers, the doorbell rings -- and rings and rings. Reaching over the lamp on my nightstand and pulling at the curtains, just enough to fit my face, I glance over in the direction of my drive way.

Moms Mercedes-Benz M-Class is aligned perfectly on the curb, just ahead of my mailbox. Fixing the curtains and deciding to forget about my long lost phone, I walk out of my bedroom and into the living room. Removing the security chain, I unlock the door and I'm about to turn the knob but my beloved mother is just a few steps ahead of me. Rushing in, my mom plops herself on the couch. One leg over the headrest, arms covering her eyes.

"Um, okay. Hi, yes come in. Make yourself at home." I mocked, locking the door and walking over to the armchair besides her.

"I'm sorry, Andrea. I'm exhausted."

"No worries. Uh, you want some coffee?" Getting up, I fix the towel around my body and walk towards the kitchen.

"Pleeeeease . . . Wait. No. Sit down." I turn around and obey her command. As I sit down, she shifts her body so her right leg is no longer hanging on the headrest but, comfortably laying on top of her other leg. Her arms now in her lap, she glances over to me and stares intensely.

"You want to talk about whatever happened this week that you haven't gone to school since Monday? I know you're graduating in like what, a month or two, but teachers start to call and what not and I don't have time for that."

"Yea, I know. Their intolerable. But, anyways just some stuff . . . I've been thinking a lot and needed... just some time. You know?" I played with my fingers, hoping she wouldn't push it but, moms always do.