When something big happens- when it is meant to happen, I think it is out of our control. I think when something huge, something life altering..something so nearly indescribably giant happens to us, it is completely and utterly out of our control. So gloriously out of our own hands.
My grand transition came to me in the midst of calamity not even two days after my Aunt August's funeral. Amongst the mourning and quietness, my change was delivered to me. In a chaotic beautiful way that still makes little to no sense to me.
I've always been a somewhat sensible and shy girl. Never to quick to act on impulse and seemingly introvert, I found sense and comfort in my bedroom safely atop my parent's house. It's not that I was a boring individual, in fact I was very sociable and friendly, I just preferred life as a hermit in my attic. The small group of friends I held dear understood this, and so I hadn't ever felt the need to change.
Yet, this description of my personality before this tale doesn't matter. Especially when my personality greatly changes over the course of this story- my story- that I feel the need to tell you about.
Everyone in my house: My mother, Nora, my Father, Adam, and my youngest brother, Jonah had all fallen asleep. My mother I hadn't seen much of the previous days due to the loss of her sister..not that I had ever seen much of my mother anyway. My other siblings, Timothy and Emmie, were off doing their own things, having their own important agendas, out and about as usual, unlike me.
It was around midnight, the ending of a day; On the last day of August, the ending of a month. Something either open or closed in me, which action it was I have yet to figure out, but that's not what matters. It was at that pivotal point of the night all of us late-teens find so familiar. Fellow night owls and insomniacs would know of the determining time of the night where you can either lay your day to rest or awaken the night before you. I sat on the hard wood floor of my bedroom, with my back against my bed. All was silent around except for the music soflty pouring from the speakers of my laptop that sat on top my somewhat tidy desk.
I hadn't cried since the passing of my Aunt August. I hadn't smiled or laughed or cried. I just figured I was either in shock or denial. Thinking this over for the first time since the funeral, I had realized how much i actually lacked emotion lately. Not that i was ever one to express them in the first place, but I had never actually thought about how i don't express myself much, which seemed out of the ordinary, being that I was a female. I giggled after pondering that and how stupid it was.
It was then, I felt an emotion I didn't expect to feel at all- anger. I was caught off guard but at the same time i understood why. I had a right to be angry, even though i should have been sad. I tried to pinpoint the source of this feeling and couldn't figure it out. I didn't know who I was angry at or why I was angry at all.
It arose from my gut til it sat in my chest and spread through my veins and bones like adrenaline. It invited itself into the rooms of my head and infiltrated the walls of my heart, and that's when that, "Action," happened. I realized that just days before, in the month of August my Aunt August took her last breath. The anger grew.
My favorite Aunt, possibly favorite person, was dead. In August. That's when the anger was replaced with laughter. I felt ashamed that I was laughing, but I couldn't help myself. The irony presented itself and wouldn't leave unacknowledged. I forced myself to stop giggling. Obviously this wasn't a time for that. Moments passed before the laughter ceased, and I felt alone without emotion again. And I decided I didn't like that.
My cell phone text tone went off, snapping me back to reality. Back to my small room. Back to this stale situation. I scanned the walls of my bedroom, searched my surroundings with my eyes..everything in the room had been the same for ages and I suddenly felt bored. I realized that this cave of mine couldn't help me feel or change my attitude or mood. I felt out of place, out of nowhere. Before I knew it the discomfort was causing me to arise from the floor and pace around. My knees felt the need to run. The lack of emotion didn't help- or did depending on which way you look at it- and I found myself seeking something...anything..to make me feel. So, I began packing my backpack with clothes and small important things. Without really processing what I was doing, I just continued to grab things- my laptop, my phone, chargers, paper and pen to write a note. As I slipped my shoes on, a small spark of panic arose in me, but it propelled me forward with whatever I was doing. After all, it was a feeling and a feeling was what I was in search of.
