A collection of short stories

Nylah

Hello everyone, so again, I must preface this piece, because some of the topics I discuss could be considered quite triggering for some viewers. This means that if you are triggered by talk of eating disorders, self harm, or death, please don't read this piece.
If you're looking for someone to talk to I'm here if you want or you can call 1-800-273-8255. Don't be afraid to ask for help there's always someone out there that has been through what you have and is looking for someone to talk to about it too.
If you're sticking around please enjoy!
**this is also more of a true story than the others I've written**
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I remember when I got my first concussion; pain struck my bloodstream as my head made contact with the childlike metal of the playset. I broke my arm at the same time, but the pain that tingled through my head far surpassed the numbing sensation stinging my arm.

I remember having a pool party, with my six kindergarten friends, for my eighth birthday. Not giving a care in the world about what may happen, because we were safe, and it would be decades before any of us bit the dust.

I remember breaking my toe at the same birthday party.

I remember the calming strike of lightning touching down right outside my window, sketching her beautiful silhouette, as I sit inside, on my bed, trembling from excitement and anticipation for the next crack of lightning to scurry through my eardrums and lull me to sleep; like the hum of a calming lullaby, sung to a newborn.

I remember scraping my chin open on the bottom step of a neighbour's front walkway, sitting at the bus stop, after my last best friend pushed me. Summer senses were soothing my pain ever so slightly, but everything hurts more for a first grader.

I remember picking peaches on a bright summer day.

I remember being locked outside, screaming to be let back in, clawing at the door handle; like a dog scratching to open the door after being let out to go to the bathroom. My brother was the only one home.

I remember planting tomatoes, cucumbers, green beans, basil, thyme, strawberries, and parsley in our planter box on the right side of our house. My brother helped, a bright smile etched into his lips, with sunscreen scattered across his face, leaving a happy sheen on his gruffly stern physique.

I remember when I got a C on a grammar quiz. Met with the reverberating cheers of a slap across my face that stung with reprimanding grace until the day I could make it up to them.

I remember when my father was happy to have me, and out of sheer bliss, got me a large teddy bear for Valentine's Day, filling my heart with a synthetic love greater than ecstasy. Holiday season was always an excuse to be nice.

I remember sending my brother off to university, my Clyde, taken into eternal custody.

I remember receiving a letter saying, "I miss you" and the six foot four inch hole in my heart filled once again; like a baby Picasso colouring in a colouring book.

I remember when I cried for my mother to get home from work. Wailing at the monotone-white door that never seemed to open, revealing her softly featured face.

I remember the sound my mother sitting on the end of my bed, reading me to sleep.

I remember singing "Happy Birthday" at The Rainforest Café. A chocolate lava cake positioned in front of me, my mother to my right, beaming with happiness brighter than the sun, and my five best friends sitting across me, singing out as if they were genuinely proud of me, while I sit there, unable to render any emotion gifted to me.

I remember waking up early, every morning, in the sixth grade, to go swimming in the pool next to our now silver garden. I would return to the house with a sand-like, hyper focus mind-set, feeling a bit like a robot to numbers that began to have meaning in my life.

I remember throwing up, on my own accord, after eating. Counting every single calorie as if it was a poisonous swamp drowning me.

I remember enjoying a thanksgiving feast.

I remember cracking my head open on the handle of the oven, after tripping over my mother's leg, blood pooling on the ground, greeting me as I enter the sizzling abyss that stole my memories.

I remember baking Christmas cookies, with sugar sprinkles littered all over the kitchen counter. Surly a hassle to clean up – we were not counting – but we enjoyed the steadiness of here and now mixed with the aroma of freshly baked cookies and holiday happiness and festivities.

I remember the pang of loss that flooded my bloodstream when Jake, my dog, died. Like a hundred bees stinging you at the same time.

I remember the look on Jake's face when I came home after school each day, standing by the door; joy sparkled in his eyes as flowers blossomed outside, and excitement radiated off his fur, waiting patiently for me to play with him.

I remember when my classmates pushed me against a locker, spitting on me, and calling me gay, whilst scary emotions told me to stay. Like handcuffing yourself to your own bedframe. I am straight.

I remember going bowling with the GSA club. Nothing but positivity revolving around the room, bursting with good vibes, screaming out pride. Sadness be damned. Everything was just perfect around me.

I remember my mother crying and telling me I was her everything, whilst I sat on the other side of the door etching rank looking sketches into me. Outside, below my window, the brother-sister garden came back to life.

I remember going to therapy and feeling my emotions bloom in wilted soil.

I remember going to Peddie, a place tattooed in blue and gold, and feeling happy again.

I remember getting an A on a math test and feeling a triumphed prism of pride.

I remember losing a race and feeling ticking determination.

I remember visiting the peppermint perfume library and feeling peace.

I remember when the lever inside me flipped; it was when I met her. Her featureless shadow burst into an accumulation of beautiful brown hair, brown eyes, brown completion, and black pride. I owe her everything – telling me, emotions were ok – I let them in and never let her go.