Rough Tides

Chapter 2

This feeling of never being good enough has followed me for ages now. There were days I did feel good. I was happy. But on other days I couldn't do anything at all. All I ever wanted to do was crying and crawling up in bed. I did have a therapist I went to once in a while and she helped me dealing with my problems and all the pressure I was put under. Though, this feeling of happiness did never last very long. I haven't talked to her in a while. I didn't want to, to be honest. I wanted to manage something myself.

I heart footsteps coming from distance. My mind started racing. I knew it was my mother but I somehow wanted to be left alone.

“Jenna!” she cried and ran up to me. I got up from the tree-trunk.

My mom pulled me into a hug. Tears were running down my cheeks once again. I slung my arms around her neck. She rubbed my back.

“I'm so glad I found you, honey!” My mom started sobbing now too.

“I needed some fresh air.” I said. I wasn't lying. It's been too much. Too much for a girl to handle. I still didn't understand why my father had said that. It seemed like he never knew that he hurt me with the words he said. Like he didn't know I had feelings. He didn't do this to break my heart, he just didn't know what he did. However, that was not an excuse.

My mom and I decided to walk for a bit. She put an arm around my shoulder. I was shaking. My leather jacket didn't keep me warm. Running had kept me from freezing but I wasn't running down the streets  anymore.

“I'm sorry.” I had to admit that it was stupid to run away from home. With nowhere to go. Except the woods. So many things could have happened to me here. I guessed that was what my mom was worried about. She was worried some guy would rape me.

Normally, a teenager who had run away decided to call someone. I'd have done that too. I would have. In fact, I didn'd have anyone to call. I could have gone to some sort of shop but as it was a Sunday night no shop was open. We lived at the edge of New York City. We didn'd have any neighbors. My grandma did live a few minutes away from us but we weren't close. That's why I rarely visited her. Mason and her had an amazing relationship, though. It was that sort of relationship I always wanted to have with my grandparents. Since my brother had a depression she tried to cheer him up by buying him all the stuff he wanted. It has always been that way. Adding to that, she loved him so very much and they could talk about everything. 

 

A few years ago, back when my brother was happy and didn't have to go through a rough time, we stayed at my grandma's house over the weekend because my parents were on a trip to Boston. My grandma went grocery shopping and my brother and I were watching TV. When my grandma got back she had bought my brother a new DVD. I was staring at her, expecting to get something, too. I never did, though. I was sad. It might sound stupid but it didn't seem fair to me. Mason got amazing presents for his birthday, whereas I usually got something I didn't even wish for. My mother tried to tell my grandma that it was not okay to treat me like that. At first I thought she started being nicer and treating me not so badly but a week later, I realized she acted the way she usually did. Mason shared some of his stuff with me to make me feel at least a bit better. My brother was seriously one of the nicest persons living on this planet. He didn't deserve anything he was going through. It hurt seeing him like that. He deserved to be happy. He deserved to have friends. I really liked talking to him about my problems because he was a good listener and he was caring and sweet. Ever since he moved in with my grandma I felt even lonelier. It sucked so much.

“I think we should go back now. I'm sure Ian is worried about us.”

“Mom, he called me a disappointment. He said he didn't want me to be his daughter. I doubt he's worrying about me at all. He never has and he never will. I know it must be terrible to have me as a daughter, I know that I'm the worst but he could at least keep it to himself. He doesn't have any idea how I'm feeling at the moment. He doesn't know how broken I actually am. Nobody does. Everyone thinks I'm okay. The truth is that I'm broken. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to do this anymore.”

At that moment, it has literally felt like a building had collapsed on me. On the other side, I needed to get this off my chest. My mom knew how I felt. But I don't think she´s ever heard me say that out loud.

We stopped walking. For a second we just looked at each other. Then, my mom stroked over my cheek.

“Everything will be fine. Trust me. You'e strong. You're a fighter. You can do this. I know you can. Never give up hope. Please. I'll always be here for you and you know that. Your father didn't mean anything he said. He loves you, he just... ca'´t really show it. ”

“I love you so much.” That was all I said. I really meant it.

 

 

 

 

I was back in my room. When we got into our house my dad said he was sorry but somehow, I had the feeling that he wasn't. He didn't hug me or anything. He just said that he was sorry. 

 

I went upstairs, to my room afterwards. I opened the door. Nothing has changed since I left. On the right hand side was my wardrobe filled with stuff I didn't like because I basically looked like shit in it. My bed was next to my window. My bed, I always lay on, crying and thinking about my life. Right next to is was my nightstand with a lamp on it. On the opposite side of my bed was my bookshelf. I loved reading. It was my very own escape from reality. I was a very fast reader. I happened to read one book a day. Next to the huge bookshelf was my desk. The walls were painted in a light gray color.

I walked over to my bed. I collapsed on it and buried my face in my pillows.

And I started crying.