Blink

I just don't get my parents. Yeah, I'm not the perfect child who can do everything right, but I am not broken in any way. They just treat me like I'm a failure, always preaching about the right way to do things... If I hadn't gotten self-confidence back in my early teen years, I'd probably be a crying mess. Their damn surety just gives them reason to complain at me for trying to do things my own way. And then I get slapped around for thinking that if God really wanted to help, he wouldn't rain down hurricanes and tornadoes on people. But I guess that's the problem with believing your eyes...

Breathing through your nose with a tissue crammed up it is an odd sensation. Almost like you're choking but you're not. It helps slow breathing down, but that's not why my nose is plugged with them. Let's just say that my dad, in his wonderful demonstrations of conservatism sometimes gets a little violent. Let's also say I've learned how to snap a nose back into its proper place.

The house is not the place to be if I feel like talking. That's why I like school, like getting outside with my friends. I also like meditation. It helps me keep myself under control. Violence is stupid. Fuming at something I cannot change is stupid, as much as I might want to change my parents or some of the other things wrong with the world. I guess that doesn't matter, really. No individual has the direct power to fix the problems of the world, just their own problems.

Meditation is great though. It might seem odd to a lot of people, being an eastern practice, but I find it good for the mind. It seems to be better than praying too, as you can usually feel some sort of immediate response, rather than just forgetting about it. Your breathing slows down, relaxing your entire body. You try to focus on nothing at all or something constant and steady, like your breathing. Like one long blink of the eyes, you just zone out...

I consider my life pretty average. I like school, but I'm hardly a teacher's pet. Learning is just good for the mind; it opens up new paths of experience. The classroom is also a great place to forget about what happened last night and just move on. I personally find it a lot more interesting to learn about how the Ancient Egyptians were so advanced in medicine and engineering for their time, rather than needing to go over a silly fight in my mind. History sometimes depresses me though. People haven't seemed to have changed very much. They still fight when they don't actually have to over things that will never change. I prefer talking things out, even if it's never gotten me that far. For the times in between classes I find my friends, who are quite the characters. We get along very well, and have an almost cliquey humour. Strings of inside jokes and a lot of good times in the classroom or someone's basement. Mostly outside of the classroom though. Paying attention in class is the best thing to do. No second laps. But that's only for eight hours a day, five days a week, for thirteen or so years of my life. Time spent at home feels like a thousand times more than that.

"Come on mom, it's just a friend's birthday party!" I exclaimed. "It's the weekend, too!"

My mother stubbornly shook her head. "You already admitted there would be alcohol. You're not even of age. Why should we let you go?" She retorted.

I sighed. "Because deep down you know I'm responsible. You also know I have practice the next morning," I replied, hopefully. I don't really care for alcohol anyways. The stuff doesn't really taste nice, if it tastes like anything at all. And if it doesn't, well then it's even more dangerous. Besides, knowing someone who was killed by a drunk driver makes you a little bit more choosey." Still no real reaction. "Come on mom. I'll be home by one," I pleaded.

My mother shook her head. "Fine. But I want your best behaviour. And tell Jenny's mom that you have a curfew," she finalized. "Now get to that homework," she added. Sighing with relief I trekked to my room to finish my adventure with Shakespeare.