My Life

It was not meant to be easy. Life was not meant to be easy. I have anxiety, something not many people have. The anxiety I feel every night before I sleep is almost overwhelming. I’m afraid my friends will leave me. I’m afraid my parents will leave me. Not in the ‘dying’ way of ‘leave’ but in the ‘ditching’ way of leave.
My parents. They argued almost every day and few slaps and pinches would be thrown at each time. I locked myself in my room, hoping that the miserable wooden door could shut out the reality outside of my room. I laugh at the thought all the time.
I was too gullible. My tears were fresh and innocent. Yes, indeed. I was very young when it started. Maybe three or four. You could dress me in white and put a ring on my head and I would immediately have become and angel. But not anymore. Having cried myself to sleep so many nights to come, my parents were bound to notice me some day.
I had no idea what they n they discovered me crying. Guilt? Shame? Sadness? I wish I knew what they were thinking. Maybe it would make things better. Or maybe not.
Yes, the arguing died down in front of me but after they thought I was asleep at night, they would resume their arguing. Why? The question is why. Why do they have so many things to argue about? Do they detest peace?
Wet pillows, messy bedsheets all came back to me. I laugh when I cried. I started looking at myself from another angle. Wow! Look at that girl! Look how pitiful she is! I would laugh and laugh, tears accompanying the laughter. My heart was breaking into a million pieces and there was no one to come and put them back together. Everything was so dull.
Many young girls wish to be princesses. Mine was far simpler. But the simplicity of it only made it more painful for me. Since it is simple, why couldn’t my wish be granted? I just wanted my parents to stop arguing and my anxiety to stop. Nothing more…
In books, the character always something good to balance out their bad lives. Well, I didn’t. School was worse for me. Those girls… They could be best friends with you one day then completely ignore you the next. That was also what brought about my anxiety. I was afraid to be excluded, to have no friends.
The anxiety would not stop coming. It was so bad – I had no one to talk to. Anxiety locked me in a dark room. I could not get out and people could not come in. I tried to shout for help but no sound came out. The isolation was driving me crazy. What happened to the colours of life I was promised when I was born?
I raised up a white flag and shoved it into the hands of anxiety. I picked up a knife next and slashed my wrist. I watched the blood flowing out and I smiled. Finally! Since life was so cruel, so difficult, why not just end it?
My parents could argue all they wanted and my ‘friends’ could continue living their lives of ‘best friends’.
But I stopped for a moment before I made the next cut. What was I dying for? Who was I dying for? I was dying for people I hated, people who fed me to anxiety. Was it worth it? I cleaned up the blood and bandaged up my wound. No, my life wasn’t going to end. Not yet.
When my time comes, I assure you, it will not be myself who brought me to the hands of death…
Let the scar be there forever. Let it be a reminder of how life was not meant to be easy. Let it be a reminder of the revenge I need to take. I will live for myself, not anyone else.
I will craft a sword with my blood running in revenge and break free of my anxiety. No, this is not the end; this is just the beginning.