From the Ground to the Sky

I dropped my head to my knees and closed my eyes. Tears rolled down my red cheeks. My ears rang with the voice in my head again: “You’re not good enough”, “You have to make your parents happy”, “You’re a failure”. In reality, I just wanted to be heard and loved. My parents never really understood me and thought I had attitude issues. No one understood me. I never had friends who cared about me. They mostly used me and told others terrible things about me. I slowly lifted my head and wiped my tears. My parents never believed sharing emotions was necessary and kept what they felt to themselves. I guess, they were strong like that. I tried journaling my thoughts, but I was always afraid they’d find them and call me weak for that. I hated being called weak. I wasn’t, but they wouldn’t realize that.

I had an older brother. He was always the perfect son and daughter any parent could ever ask for. 10 APs, captain of the debate team, perfect A+ student (not to mention, a teacher’s pet), captain of the basketball team, prodigy pianist, and the favorite child. I, on the other hand, was a C student, who hated studying and had a passion for art. My parents thought me painting was a complete waste of time. They always said “Stop wasting your time and be more like your brother” or “You are such a disappointment”. I didn’t feel close to anyone, and sometimes I just wanted to run away.

Last year was hard for me. I had a perfect memory; I had Hyperthymesia. It was a double-edged sword. I was in a horrendous train accident. And, I know it’s sad and all, but I don’t want any pity. I was stupid, but part of me hoped I died that day. After the accident, my parents treated me like broken glass and my brother didn’t give me a shit. My parents and I just fought about what I was going to do for college. I always had a passion for art, so I told them I wanted to go to an art school. But, their exact words were “An art degree will not take you anywhere, so if you want to live under our roof, you will work hard and get into a proper college”. See, but that’s the thing, proper sounded different to me. Art was who I was. It was the thing I felt most connected with, but no one would understand that! I got very upset and yelled at them “ok, then I won’t live under your roof! The least you can do is support me going to art school, and allow me to pursue my passion.” 

I went up to my room and packed my bag in a hurry. Soon, I found myself walking in the streets of Manhattan. I had no money, no friends, no food, nothing. I decided that I didn’t want to be in New York anymore. Just the thought of staying here and possibly seeing my parents made me sick to my stomach. I went to a nearby subway station and sat in a corner. I slowly started sobbing, but my sob session was cut short when a hooded figure in the distance swiftly walked towards me. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but that was the biggest mistake I’d ever made. He grabbed me by the collar and whispered into my ear “No one likes you, Freak.” His voice was hard and full of hatred. He yanked my collar and threw me harder than he’d anticipated toward the rails, just as a train was passing by. I felt a large force slam into me. The train hit me once and I passed out, and I found myself in the hospital with my parents hovering over me. Once I woke up a bit, the doctor came in and told me that I was very lucky to even be alive. The doctor told me that I had fallen completely vertically, so the impact was less. She also mentioned there was a kind girl there who took me to the hospital. 

I will forever be grateful to her, but I didn’t want to go back to my parents' house. Their house didn’t feel like my home anymore; it felt like a strange place. While I spent my time in recovery, I worked on multiple paintings to take my mind off the pain. My parents were, of course, difficult about me working on art and told me to complete an online high school course. After a couple of months, I fully recovered physically, but I was completely broken mentally. 

My parents told me I had to go to school and at least finish high school. I, unfortunately, had to agree to go. I had one friend, but she wouldn’t want to see me like this. I honestly didn’t even know why she wanted to be my friend. Her name was Luna. She was sweet, popular, loved, had a special interest in art, drop-dead gorgeous, and was captain of the cheerleading team. Something about her drew me to her. Maybe it was her inviting smile, but we both knew it was something way more than that. She made me feel like I was a human and feeling was perfectly normal. 

I soon started senior year. I was just a nobody who was now known as the “weird senior who died and then came back to life”. As I walked down the hallway I felt the pointing and staring. I tried not to care, but it was insanely hard. As I clicked the code for my locker, a group of seniors came up to me and shoved me to my locker “Go back to the dead, ghost”. Just then, I heard a voice. “Get lost guys before you see a bad side of me. And Becky, I don’t think you’ll be very enthusiastic bullying a poor girl when you're kicked off the cheerleading team.” It was Luna. She looked even more gorgeous than how I remembered her with those gorgeous big hazel eyes and silky long brown hair. She gave me the biggest bear hug and a kiss on my cheek. I blushed hard. “How are you, girl?” “Never better,” I sarcastically replied. Suddenly, my heart raced and increased and I started sobbing. I hated crying. It made me look weak, and my parent hated weakness. I couldn’t take it anymore. I dashed to the nearest restroom and locked myself into one of the stalls and dried my eyes before anyone found out I was crying. I slowly rose my head to the mirror. I looked horrendous, with my makeup smudged and my hair all messy. Just then the bell rang. Darn it, I was late for class on the very first day. 

After 1st period, Luna caught up to me. “Hey, what’s going on? Why’d you leave so abruptly”. “It’s none of your business, Luna. Just stay out of this.” “See, that’s the thing, when people, like me, are willing to be your friend, you just turn your back on us. This is why you don’t have any friends,” Luna said her voice breaking. I couldn’t forgive myself for the next thing I did; I gave Luna a tight slap right across her cheek. I was too stunned to speak. I wasn’t a violent person at all, but I had just hurt the one person who actually cared about me. To my surprise, she gave me a hard punch to my nose. I fell hard to the ground and felt my heart race, my breathing rate increase, tears swelling in my eyes, and sweat caressing my forehead. Then, I blacked out. The only thing I heard was Luna’s worried voice “Someone call 911 STAT!!! I’m so so sorry!”. The next thing I knew, I was in the Emergency Room, yet again, with my parents and Luna hovering over me. “OMG thank goddess your awake. I’m so sorry,” Luna said crying. I hated seeing Luna like that. “No, Luna. I’m sorry. I was an idiot for telling you that. You’re the only one who cares about me, and I was so stupid for not treating you better.” She gave me one of her bear hugs I loved. "I love you, Luna." "I love you too", she replied with heavy emotion. Luna, then, excused herself to the bathroom. My parents came into the hospital room with tears in their eyes. I was flabbergasted. My parents, the one who thought crying was a weakness, was crying? They came and hugged me. “I’m so sorry for treating you like this for so many years. We’ve always wanted the best for you, and us stopping you from doing what you love was the worst decision of our lives. I hope you can forgive both of us. We love you to bits, and it seriously hurts us to see you like this.” “It’ll take some time for us to be good again, but thank you for understanding.” I replied. 

Now:

I am going to therapy and have a great relationship with Luna. Luna and I had the best senior year together. After my senior year ended, I ended up going to a local art school and pursuing art as a full-time job. Now, I’m a mother of 2 (Lizzy and Ryan), a professional artist, a business owner (selling my paintings), and a social media influencer. My life started with me wanting to run away from home to have a loving family and job.

THE END.

*Based on a true story, but some parts are exaggerated for entertainment*