Secret Second Self

          I have been told many times I am artistic; I have been told I give good advice; I have even been told I am a great friend, but no one has ever told me I am emotional. Perhaps the reason people only see me when I am generally happy is because I hide my emotions. People don't call me emotionless, not at all; I am very enthusiastic. People always see me as strong, optimistic, and diligent. Deep inside, however, I think have frequently felt destitute.

          Before my sister moved out, she was the primary center of attention in our house, her doings and actions were more focused on than mine. While I usually sat in the corner all day and drew pictures, she was out playing softball or with friends. She is the oldest in my family and always knows what to say to calm my mother down when my mother was fuming with rage. My sister and I have not always been close; regardless when my sister left she did not pass down her "skills"; she did not teach me her tactics to calm down my mother; she did not even leave a single sticky note of advice for what to do when my mother was enraged; nothing. Even when my sister was still around I would shut up and cry whenever we got yelled at; she always handled the toxins of whatever situation we got ourselves into, but now she is not around and I feel vulnerable.

          Thinking back now, I feel as if I should have had that one great friend to always talk to; the problem was talking was never enough. It did not stop the yelling and certainly did not stop how I felt. A few short days ago, I was coloring a picture I had drawn for homework, when my mother said "You should make your mom some tea." Obliged, I shook my head and mumbled loud enough in agreement. I wanted to finish coloring a part of my picture before I put the tea on, but just as I was rising from the chair my mother blurted out "I'll just treat people the way they treat me." Not knowing what she was talking about, I inquired her about it, thinking it had something to do with an e-mail considering that she was on the computer and it was not out of the ordinary for an e-mail to get her heated. "Nothing," she replied in a discouraging tone. I repeatedly asked for her to tell me what she meant regarding the remark she made earlier until she told me she was aggrivated because I had not yet made her tea. Not wanting to start trouble, I did as she wanted.

           My grandma was on her way over at the time, so when the tea was done I poured it into a cup, put the tea bag in, and left it on the counter. I did not know when my grandma would arrive at my house, so I scurried to the bathroom and put my coat on when suddenly I heard my mother stomping down the hallway.

"What are you doing?" she questioned in a stern, suspicious voice. I thought I was in trouble.

"I'm putting my coat on," I said hesitantly, not knowing what to expect.

"You couldn't even make me tea?" Her voice got louder as she spoke. "My tea has been on the counter for five minutes and you were just going to leave it there?" I shook, my whole body was frozen. I was baffled she was blasting my ear drums with this.

"Mom," I said in a firm voice, "I was going to take the tea bag out after I put my jacket on."

"No you weren't," she demandingly snapped. "I don't believe you." Stunned and upset, I did not say one more word. I quickly slipped into the bathroom to hide, sniffing and holding my breath so my eyes wouldn't tear up.

When my grandma finally arrived I tossed my small yorkie dog into another room and shut the door fast behind me as I walked out. I heard the door quickly open, with gust of wind, after me.

"What was that about?' my mother questioned angrily

"Nothing," I mumbled looking at the pavement on the porch.