[Normani Kordei]
So it was finally summer.
Took long enough. Not that I would know. My whole life has been my tiny room. In Atlanta Georgia. In the small blue house. With my mom and my dad. And my baby sister. Who wasnt quite little. More like 8 years old.
But time seemed dead to me. I didnt feel like I really had a reason to care. Lots would call me depressed. Trying to stick me somewhere I didnt want to be. Thinking I need a therapist or something. Overreacting. Like Im about to jumo off a bridge.
As if I could get 5 feet from my house.
Its not my fault though. I dont even know whos fault it was. Maybe God just thought Id be better off this way. With only my thoughts in my head. They drifted every now and then. And Im 17. Its shameful. Maybe thats why Im horrible at being social. Or because Im locked away forever.
All I can remember from my childhood is this house. Being all alone. My parents screaming at eachother or we all ignore eachother. Staying in seperate rooms. Not caring. I remember when my parents had gone to the local store for some more milk. And they told me everything was fine.
And I remember the flames.
Thats it.
Ever since then my mind is mush. I can remember lots of things. I have a decent ability to learn. But my handwriting is aweful. My speech seems to fail when I need it most. It seems when I try to put my thoughts into words do I really struggle.
I hated it so much.
And it was all because of the drug.
It only made reading easier though. The ability to drift away by the words. I dont know why reading was easy for me. But it was. Now trying to commit textbooks to memory was a different story. My brain couldnt focus on that. Only when the words painted a picture in my mind did I really realise I could read.
A knock on the door brought pain to my head. I sat up gently and waited. My mom enter and shut the door softly. "Sorry I forgot."
I nodded. "S'ok." I tried to talk less. It made it easier in my head. In which in a weird sense couldnt handle the smallest of things oddly enough.
"I really think you should go to the supprot group. Its for people who have had accidents."
Theres with the supprot group again. My mom keeps thinking if I talk it out with random strangers I'll feel better. But I wont. They stopped therapy when I refused to talk or write because I stumbled so much. And now Im just going to get back on the horse and blab to people my sob story?
No.
I shake my head. "No thanks."
My mom sits on my bed. "Sweatie it'll be good for you."
"But I d-d- dont wan- nt to." I stutter.
"You need to make some friends Normani. It will be good for you."
My gaze shifts to the window. My head slowing down. Relief filling the empty gap.
"Normani-" She lightly places a hand on my leg.
My head follows her arm and to her face. Concentrating hard for fear of drifting again.
"The first season is in an hour. Your going."
I groan but she is out the door.
