I’m a prisoner. That is the only thing I can say about myself. If you ask others, I‘ve got it made. I’m a middle class person with a nice house and a huge materialistic value. For years, my life has been a mission: to find out who I really am. However, setbacks always block the path. There are always florescent cones that redirect me to a trail of railroad tracks. Tracks that I’m forced to travel; or at least I think. One trail is my parents, or rather, adults in general.1
Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and God knows I admire every teacher I’ve had throughout my years of schooling, in life or academics. There comes a moment though, every now and then where I feel anger. This happens to every teenager, I am sure. However, I doubt that adults rarely make suicidal thoughts enter their mind. Okay, I know that I tend to exaggerate things I write, especially since my stories seem like soap operas. (Just ask any person who regularly reads my writing material, and that is exactly what they’ll tell you.) This time around I am being nothing except literal.2
In sixth grade, I began the highly capable program here at Horse Heaven Hills. All of a sudden my grades began to plummet and assignments became harder for me. When the first quarter report card showed less than satisfactory marks, my parents began degrading me, calling me names, predicting a dark and dreary future, and staring at me with cold eyes that had a glint of apparent anger. The looks of my teachers were different. Instead, I saw disappointment in their pupils and something that told me they wanted some sort of accomplishment, begging me to do better. They all knew I could. Either way, in both cases, I’d end up crying myself to sleep every night. I wanted to please them all so bad, but I was just too stupid to do so. Actually, a better thing to say is my priorities weren’t in the right place. As the year moved on and seventh grade eventually made its round, the weaknesses of emotions became worse. With everything I did, it never turned out like my parents hoped it would. Always wrong and never right. They wanted me to be perfect. One problem came up: Perfection doesn’t exist.3
There would be nights where I’d never sleep (usually when earlier, my parents sent me up to my room because they couldn’t stand to look at me for another moment), and I’d have the worst anxiety attacks. Tears streamed down my face, flooding my skin. Quick, shallow breaths filled my lungs. This is when I could breathe. Other times, I’d be so engulfed by emotional pain that I had to make an effort to get air. The simple task became anything but involuntary. I don’t pray often, but I remember praying during these moments of misery. God, please, I begged, kill me now. That’s all I ask. Kill me, so this is all over. I thought if I just died, everyone would be happier and every problem that involved me would be solved. Obviously, that never happened. What bugged me the most during these nights was how oblivious my parents were during the whole breakdown. Could they really not hear me crying when they slept next door?4
There came a time when I just gave up. I knew I could not please anyone, even if I wanted to. Of course, my parents’ anger just grew. My annoyance with adults finally settled in. During my beginning adolescent years, they had authority. I absolutely hated it. Every adult I know thinks they posess some sort of superiority. In all honesty, people who are older are learning just like the rest of us. They tried to control me and failed. Who’s smart now? No one.5
Again, I’m trapped. Between two lives, the concrete walls of my soul, it doesn’t matter. At least I’ve figured out I have wings. I may not know how to fly, but I’ll learn. I’m going to break free of these chains.
Author notes
For Contest: Option six. This was in the last couple years, so I would've been age 12-14.
♠
This is a personal narrative I wrote for a book my school printed called 'Behind These Eyes'. This is a true story, despite how much I wish it wasn't. It originally went with the poem called 'Behind a Young Mind' posted here: http://storywrite.com/story/162554
*Frozen Angel*
A contest entry
- Choices! by Writing0Freedom.
825 points, ended August 12, 2008, 18 entries
Honorable mention
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Real... As Real As Real Can Get by VioletConcept.
460 points, ended August 11, 2008, 10 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Leave your thoughts...
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Not bad. I like you have wings and able to learn how to fly.
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Thanks for entering
(Just ask any person who regularly reads my writing material, and that is exactly what they’ll tell you.) In this line the period needs to be after the perinticeses (however you sell it these things --->>>)(...)
(usually when earlier, my parents sent me up to my room because they couldn’t stand to look at me for another moment)- I hope I don't sound rude, but this doesn't seem too likly to me. Yes, they might mad about you not being 'perfect' but I don't think them not being able to look at you is the problem...
Other than my quick comments above, I would say I have no experience with what you are feeling. I am a pretty good student, so (maybe) I might be a little to much unlike you. But your feelings you added in were very touching. I loved this line --->>>
"Again, I’m trapped. Between two lives, the concrete walls of my soul, it doesn’t matter. At least I’ve figured out I have wings. I may not know how to fly, but I’ll learn. I’m going to break free of these chains. "
It's a wonderful way to end a sad story about yourself.
Good luck in my contest and I am hoping to see more of your work around StoryWrite.
Good Luck,
VH -
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I do not think that you have the right to judge what is true and what is false. It is not a special talent you have and you are not a lie detector.
Ask any of my friends and they will tell you that I keep my integrity, even if I am tempted by something that is wrong. This is indeed true and I know you didn't really doubt it, but I just wanted to make this clear.
As far as the comment about my parents being mad about me and sending me up to my room, it is realistic in my life. Often it was my dad who would hurt me on very rare occasions when he got really mad. It didn't mean much to him, but I would be crying; just a little. It hurt me even more that every time he did, I had to hide it from my mom and he would act innocent. So, no, I am not exaggerating.
It pisses me off that you try to seperate what is truth from what is fiction. You do not understand the whole story, nor you ever will. I focused on the emotion because it is the emotion that nearly killed me, not the facts. The facts are what I could deal with. The way I reacted and the consequences that went with it is not what I could handle.
Don't tell me I'm lying when you don't know what the hell I went through or what the hell you are talking about. My parent's are obviously not your parents and they treat a child differently than your parents would.
My thoughts also made a difference. I think and act differently than you or my parents, so, naturally, you do not, and CANNOT understand.
*Frozen Angel*
*Frozen Angel*
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Beautiful and well done. Your words were powerful and what made it even more that was that it was true. It flowed well. Your descriptions were great as well. And I have to say, I can relate to this a lot. I can basically relate to everything in this. Again, great job with this. Take care and I hope you do well in the contest that you entered this in.
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Wow! This is beautiful. I love that its a memoir, its really powerful and more so that its true. I'm sorry you had to go through this though. The description is really good and it all flowed really nicely. I was interested by the way you told it which was very nicely.
I love "There are always florescent cones that redirect me to a trail of railroad tracks." Beautiful description there" You are a really talented writer! Thank you for entering!
WritingFreedom -
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Thank you!
This was a very hard time for me (I am still getting over the depression) and when I wrote this, I forbid my teacher to ask me about it because it was a very uncomfortable subject for me. Then I decided to publish it in the school book (under my penname, of course) and it amazed me how many people like it and could relate to it in their own personal way.
*Frozen Angel*
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Wow this was cool!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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