The Journey That Is Life; A Teenage Perspective

Chapter 7- Holiday Spirit?

What's better than the holiday season? A lot. Too much to list, one being the holocaust, another being rape, but the biggest reason is i don’t like holidays is the fact that all my family does, is sitting around a fake pine tree, with low cost Christmas ornaments, with a religious angel sitting on top staring at you with its little pearl eyes, and talking about current events. And what's more fun than expressing one opinion then being shown up by a boy who thinks he knows everything, and a little boy who doesn’t know when enough is enough. Too much to list as well. So I sit there and eat whatever snacks are presented to me, and laugh occasionally at my dog making odd noises, and eyeing that little angel on top of the tree. But every time I snicker, everyone looks at me suddenly as if I have something to share, which I don't think whatever I would say would amuse them more than talking about things that occurred on the holiday we shared a week before. Most of the trips we go on only last about a week itself, but I'm not complaining. Sometimes its good to get away, even if it means I'll be sharing a room with Steve.

*****

I continued to pack my clothes, knowing me I had to use the biggest suitcase in the house to hold all my crap. A few cute shirts I liked didn't fit, and that bummed me out quite a bit, but the music playing on the radio changed my mood. A Maroon-5 song came up, so I reached up to turn it up. It's always fun to listen to music, text, and fill containers up with clothes. Multitasking just happens to be one of my many talents that don't result in much. The music was almost too loud to hear my ring-tone go off, but I looked down, and it was a message from Zoë. Finally. I thought to myself. I opened the text, and it read:

Zoë: "I thought we had plans, thx for bailing on me again. For all I know, you could be hooking up with that Luke guy. smh".

     I forgot to tell her. I was right; I knew she was mad at me. I can apologize, and offer a girls day out, but I'm leaving tomorrow, and I'm busy today. I did feel bad, bad enough to turn down the radio. I decided to call her. It rang once, but went straight to voicemail. I tried again; it went straight to voicemail. I really wondered if she knew I felt bad. Wow, I am a horrible friend. There's nothing I can do now, she and I just have to wait a week until I get back. I sighed, and continued with my work. Only finishing a few minutes later. I went to sit on my bed, to text Sully; he always puts me in a better mood. I sent my first text saying hello, a sigh and look over to my bookshelf. I see a little blue book, and I remembered exactly what was written in it. Poetry. Depressing poetry. Written throughout middle school. The cover simply said: Silence is the loudest scream. Without even considering that whatever I read will put me in a even worse of a bad mood, I went over to it, opened it up to the first page, and started reading;

Lost Forever. Gone For Always. But I Was Already Gone, Too Late For A Sorry.

It didn't make much sense, but since I was the only one reading it, it got the point across. I flipped to the next page:

I'm an outcast, I want my past, a child of my last, but there's nothing I can do, and I'm almost through

With my face burning hot, trying to keep the tears in, I turned the page again:

Time may heal words.

But Memories of this PAIN

And UNHAPPYNESS

Will HAUNT me to my YOUNG grave.

I gave in and started whimpering, but I continued without thinking of my self's well being:

As I sit here looking down at my scars, I look wanting to scream at the stars. Why do I have to wear a tear filled shirt? Why me, that has to go through all of this. I’m hurt

I winced at this one, I moved my sight down to my wrist, there was faint. But pink scars, unnoticeable if you didn't know they were there. But I knew they were there, they were very noticeable.