Bad Things

one: generations

When I was younger, my mom told me bad things happen for a reason.

I lost her a year later when I was twelve years old. And I reminded myself bad things happen for a reason. She was my favorite person in the world. Everyday I'm reminded of her because of my eyes. Deep brown almost black eyes. But my black hair and long slender nose was from my dad.

I was seventeen, two month away from turning eighteen. I had graduated from high school last year, having took almost every core class I possibly could in two years.

The past three generations of our family have all been extremely gifted in something, spanning to both sides of the family. My moms mother was known around the world for her writings, the most famous The Heaven and Ophelia. My dad sold painting all over the world while his brother wrote the best selling series, The Jenson Blind Trilogy and his twin sister was a neuroscientist. My mother was one of the leading scientists in find the cure for lung cancer. My sister is gifted with the piano while I excelled in high school in my core classes. Remembering everything you've ever read about, seen, or heard comes in handy when you teachers give you extra work. But taking advanced classes and reading everything you could get your hands on wears you down a lot. I took two years off of school for mental reason, my anxiety had gone through the roof when so many school offered me scholarships and everyone was expecting me to go to ivy league schools to become a doctor or lawyer.

When I came to the decide that I wanted to take time off from school everyone was pretty disappointed, my teachers told me I was throwing my life away and by that time it was too late to find a school that would let me start in the fall so I had began to plan starting school in the spring.

I was accepted into NYU with my major still undecided.

About a month before I was supposed to leave my Aunt Mary passed away. She was the closest thing I had to a mom, she had been with me since the sad day when my real mom passed away. She had breast cancer and by the time they found it it was too late.

I had had spells of depression before, they plagued me throughout high school, but this one was worse than anything. No one except my aunt, dad and sister knew though, not even my closest friends knew about it.

I stayed in bed with the door shut and my covers thrown off of me, it was too hot in my room. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep.

Bad things happen for a reason.

Bad things happen for a reason.

Bad things happen for a reason.

After two weeks I finally had run out of tears.

After two weeks I finally got out of bed, took a long shower and looked at myself in the mirror. I then grabbed a pair of scissors and cut my hair. Chunks fell off until it sat close to my head with short bangs. I dug around in my dressers and closet throwing everything thing out of my second story bedroom and setting it all on fire. Tossing my pillows and blankets out as well and then next came the pictures and books and the papers. CDs, records, movies.

Everything.

I had a complete mental breakdown.

Nothing felt real.

It seemed like for the small time I wasn't human.

I was just