Carry On By Alex Souto

Carry On

Hello my name is Marie. I will be telling you a short story about myself and how I became the person I am today. For starters I have one sister named Olyvia. She is sixteen years of age and she is basically my life. Everything I pretty much do is for her. My dad's name is Robert. He is forty years of age. He devotes his life to his portuguese band and his everyday alcohol. Nothing is more important to him than that, not even his kids. My mom's name is Michelle, she's also forty years of age. My mom works at For Eyes Optical. To me my mom isn't just a mom, she is my best friend. My dad on the other hand can be really difficult to handle. My dad and I have a love hate relationship I guess you can say. We always end up getting in some kind of argument. Some may be pointless and some can get really serious. If you were to spend a day with me at my dads you wouldn't believe the things that would happen in his house. My mom and dad got into multiple fights ever since I was little. It constantly got worse as my dad made poor decisions in his life.

Things got tight with money and my mom was only working part time at the moment. My dad got a job at this nightclub DownTown called Toons. Let me tell you, that was a very bad decision. He began coming home late every day of the week, sometimes even the weekends. At the time my sister was four and I was seven years old. It was really hard for us to understand what was going on and why our "loving" daddy was gone almost the half of our lives. My sister would always ask for him every night. Slowly I caught on and realized what was happening, I didn't want to believe it so I chose to make up excuses for my dad and for my own mentality. Every night I'd tell my sister "Daddy will be home soon to give you a goodnight kiss, just rest your eyes.", she refused to go to bed. My mom and I would have to constantly tell her to lay back down to ease her mind about our dad. The three of us would watch a movie.. after movie.. after movie until my sister finally fell asleep. By the time that happened it was already one o'clock in the morning and still my dad wasn't home. Honestly, I would fall asleep next to my sister making sure she's okay instead of waiting for my dad. I knew he wasn't coming home or if he were to it wouldn't be 'till four o'clock in the morning. I would always know when my dad was home because I would hear my mom and dad arguing mostly my mom saying "Don't start with me robert. Not right now. Not when the kids are in the other room." but my dad wouldn't listen.

Years went by and still the same old thing, always making sure my mom and sister were okay. Always crying at night not knowing what to do with myself, not knowing when it will end, and not knowing whether it was my fault or if there was just a fall out. One night my dad and mom were arguing too much, I couldn't take it anymore. I left my room shutting the door behind me, so my sister won't wake up due to all the commotion that was going on. I went into the room and let all my feelings out but only half way through I stopped breathing and was rushed into the hospital. All I was asking for was to see my sister and to be sure that she was okay. After waiting awhile I found out she was fine and was with my grandmother Maria, my dads mom. The only one who was there with me by my bed side was my mom, who knew where my dad was. I shrugged it off like it didn't hurt but deep down inside I was crying, shattering piece by piece. I just wanted my old daddy back. Before I knew it I was flashing back to when we were all in the family room playing rock band, because that was just our thing every night. I remember it like it was yesterday me singing, my sister and dad fighting over who was going to play the drums and whomever lucked out had to play the guitar. My mom was our audience she just loves to watch us play, she would look at us with such focus like she was soaking in every detail. After my sister and I would tease my dad by saying we were better than him, he would get us back by picking my sister and I up in the air swinging us left and right. He was smiling.. laughing even, where has time gone?
Moments later I started questioning what was going on, as if I wanted this all to be a figment of my imagination. Hours later I left the hospital still not knowing what had happened and what was wrong with me. Finally when I got home my mom had told me that I had what was called, an anxiety attack. Anxiety attacks are mostly caused by stress. My dad was my so called "stress". It is now thirteen years later and my attacks are stronger than ever.

Eventually my mom and dad divorced when I was in the second grade, it affected me so much. It came to a point where I had to repeat the second grade all over again, I lost everything. I felt like everything was just falling apart. My mom thought it was best to put me in counseling to help me with my problems.
Shortly after my dad remarried to the woman he was sending love notes to before my sister was even born. I knew how much my mom was hurting and I hated my dad for leaving her, but I hated him even more for leaving my sister and I as well, the two people that he should never have given up on. I look up to my mom very much because I know how much that woman has tried to stick it out a various amount of times after being hurt many times, throughout it all she just wanted her family to be together. I prayed that she would find another man one day and she would be happy again. Two years later, God answered my prayers and I think hers too. She met another man and dated him for four years and eventually got married. My mom and her husband Francisco are currently going on their six in a half year of being married. Today I am eighteen years old and still seeing my counselor after ten years. My mom constantly reminds me that I am a smart young lady and have a bright future ahead of me with big goals, and she's right.

After thirteen years in school, I am finally done. I feel as if the world is in front of me and the future is at my command. It is a warm morning in June and I am going to accomplish some of my big goals. I get dressed slip on my shoes, stick my wallet and phone in my purse, and heading my way out to the cafe to meet up with Sue. My hands on the doorknob of my house, I take a deep breath trying to gain some confidence. I close my eyes then opening them as I open the door one foot before the other and i'm out of the house closing the door behind me. As I'm walking to the cafe to meet up with Sue my counselor for ten years, a lot of emotions and thoughts come to mind. Instead of panicking and running like I used to, I glimpse back at our old sessions and just breathe. I carry on with my walk.

I study every little aspect in everything that catches my eye. I see a little girl and her father. The little girl is tugging on her father's shirt as he talks on the phone. One may find this annoying but the way I see things is that she's just begging for her father's attention.

Then of course questions start to pop, who is he talking to? Why does she demand his attention? Does she want his attention because she doesn't get any at all?.. I keep walking, looking high and low trying to escape from my thoughts as always. I came across a lonely blue bird up high above in the tree. Oh blue bird why don't you leave and be free? Why does thee just sit alone with no one? SING! SING!.. Oh blue bird just leave and be free.

One moment to the next I realized I'm standing right in front of the cafe. I walk in and see Sue sitting with her black cup of coffee reading the same old book "Every Last Word". Once I get my tea I take a seat next to her. We talk about each others day and how it's going so far. She then asks me if I have made a final decision for my college and career. I tell her that I've applied to the art school in San Francisco to study art and its true meaning and of course literature.

She seems intrigued, so I continue. I begin to explain how I began to have a passion for poetry. I've been writing ever since I was a freshman in high school. She smiled and said "I knew you had something in mind." She asks me if I want to be an art teacher or even a literature teacher. I guess I can say I've thought about it but what I had in mind was becoming a poet; write poetry books and get them published so people who read it know they aren't alone.

I then realized things will fall into place and they will get easier; you just need to remember that in order to enjoy, and cherish the good days you have to get through those harder days. She stops and takes a sip of her coffee. I study her every movement in that soft, sweet, determined, confident, joyful tone. She then says, "session is over."