Short Stories

Inside An 'Ordinary' Mind

Prologue.

Courage: why is it so important? Ordinary people have courage, but does anybody see it? Is courage really what everybody thinks? Is it the heroes who are only in it for the publicity? I'm sure you think you know the answers to all of these questions, but do you really? Are you the one faking courage, or is it them? Which one is it, or do you even know? Some people don't know how to answer, while others do. What does that mean? Maybe you'll find out, but look for the inner meaning once you understand a story of what true courage could, or could not, mean.

Scene 1.

I hate these people. I hate all of them. Everything is a performance for me. I'm always acting. I have to act happy, and I have to act like a care, but I don't. I don't care about any of this. All I want to do is stop acting and find a hole to hide in and sleep, or, better yet, die. I know what you're thinking. You're probably thinking 'that's sad' or 'why are you doing this to yourself,' and, to answer your question, I'm not doing this to myself. If it were up to me, my picture would be on a missing person poster while my body was hidden in a place where no one would find me, but, unfortunately, I did meet one person I actually want to deal with in this dead-end town. She, however, doesn't want to deal with me as much as her other friends, but that's okay. She still cares, and I'll keep telling myself that until she doesn't.

Scene 2.

Everyday is the same thing for me. I get up, look in the mirror, find the courage to show my face in public, and then I get on the bus. That process, as a whole, takes about three hours. After that, I have to spend about eight hours in the hole they call a school. I don't even mind learning, but I can't stand the people. I used to be homeschooled, but my mom decided I needed more "human interaction," and she was probably right. Even so, I haven't been able to get much of that. All the interaction I've gotten is with counselors and the friend I mentioned earlier, but I still try to be an okay human being around other people. When I get home, it's a completely different story.

Scene 3.

I get home. I take my dog inside. I sleep. I wake up. I eat a snack. I read. I basically act like a robot until I finally feel my knees lock and my mind give in. I feel the way the air pressure and the ground connect and pull me down with them. I look at my arms and add another line of red blood to count another day that I survived. I learned to cope.

Scene 4.

Maybe I should explain. I mean, we are close to intermission. I hate myself. I hate other people. I don't think I need to explain further, do I? I'm one of those people you decide to stay away from when you see me. I don't wear all black or anything, but the way I look at people says enough. I understand that I'm not normal, and I know that I don't see things the same way as others,however, I also know that if things are seen differently by people, it creates a more intelligent world. In other words, I basically don't care.

Scene 5.

I've always been one of those people who creates things, but destroys them afterwards. It happens with everything. It happens with friendships, hearts, etc. When I was little, I even destroyed the Lego castle I spent hours building in preschool. I don't understand how to cope, so I just destroy, instead. I guess I was just never taught these things. I was never taught how to cope or how to deal with others. I never learned what true friendship actually meant. All I knew was from the childish tv shows and books I tried to listen to and understand as a kid. Now I'm just an empty shell with no idea on how to deal with the real world, but I had to. I have to learn.

Intermission.

I prepare. I try to understand. Thinking about it now, it could have been so simple. I could have just started out right. I guess it's just a matter of trial and error. You know what? I'm done with error. I'm going to keep going, and I'm going to do it now. Intermission is over, and so is this play. I am done with the acting, and I finally understand what to do.

Act 2. Scene 1.

I'm done with the acting. I'm done with the counting. I'm done looking at my arms with disgust. I'm done trying to learn without experience. I will keep trying and learning. I will break free from this prison I've made for myself. I will get away from the hate. I am done pretending. I am done going from scene to scene without the purpose of getting free. The acting is over, and my heart is no longer iced over. The deserted island that is my mind has become a canvas prepared to be painted with a beautiful Phoenix covered in golden embers. My life as it was is over, and the warmth surrounds me. I've found what to live for; I'll live for what I believe in. I finally know where I'm going; welcome to reality. My soul is finally free, and my voice is strong and free. I set myself free. No. My courage to cope and endurance until the end brought my soul through and opened the box, so I could think outside. No more trial and error. I'll do things right the first time this time, and I'll make it through.

Finale.

What is courage? Do you know? Is it getting through the situations that make us stronger or is it creating these situations? Maybe it's the getting stronger part that counts, but that might just be my opinion. You try thinking about what the true meaning of courage could be, and maybe you will know. Maybe we will all know.