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My Show

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Slowly I let my eyes close, and immediately I'm taken to a different place. A dark enclosed movie theatre where I am sitting alone. The screen lights up and I see myself standing in the middle of the hallway. There's people standing all around me, their dagger like eyes fixed on my person. I don't understand why I am so special that they're eyes are always searching for me. Why me?




My eyes flutter open, and I see the woman, my counselor, doing another simulation of a smile back at me. She doesn't really care about me at all, only the pay check I'll hand her at the end of my session. She's like a brick wall, silent and unmovable. However there is one difference. A brick wall will actually listen.



"Now, didn't that help with your anxiety a little bit?" she asks, for the fifth time today.



"No," I answer back, the same as the first five times. "Reliving the stress over and over again in my head does not help clear my anxiety."




"Well, then I guess we're done here." She says, briskly standing, and walking over to the door to let me out. I follow hurriedly behind her, like a caged animal just waiting to be set free. "Same time next week?"





"Unfortunately." I answer back. She just gives me another feign smile, lets me out into the lobby were my high strung mother sits, her foot tapping three times a second on the ground, and slams the door shut behind her.





"Hi Honey! How was counseling? Did you improve?" my mother asks as I approach.





"No." I say simple, grabbing my coat off the chair, and throwing it on. My mother stands too, and does the same, but grimacing at me.





"I guess we'll have to try another counselor. I didn't really like this one anyway? Do you? She just seems too perky to me . . ." my mother says, about to go off on one of her endless talking fits again. Before she starts I cut her off.





"No mom, I can't do this anymore. No more counselors, psychiatrists, or therapists! I can't handle this constant pressure! I can't take the constant ridicule! IT'S JUST TOO MUCH!" I scream, and with that charge out the door.





I get in to my car, shut the door and start the ignition. The motor gentle hums to life, vibrating the car ever so slightly as it turns on. My mom's running out of the office now, with counselor right behind them. Both of them, knowing my deepest, most personal thoughts still don't know me at all. No one does, and no one ever will.





All they see is an image. I prefigured thought of me, inspired by some deadbeat guy in my class with no future ahead of him anyway. Why not let it out on me? I'm already a nut case anyway. There's no more of a future ahead of me then there is for him. Why not let it out on the girl who has to try so hard to fit in? Then it just grew into something out of my control, an issue bigger then the victim, and the victimizers. Why do they mock me when they don't even know me?





There are so many lies about me out there, reaching the ears of so many stupid kids my age, who just yearn for the gossip to fill up their boring normal lives. They just wish they had a life as exciting as mine. They want to be a show to put on so that every second of every day all eyes could be on them, forcing them into a self-conscience state of fear and anxiety. Now all they're waiting for is a finale. Why not make it as epic as possible?





I drive sixty miles per hour down a narrow winding road. It's nighttime, raining, and trees are on both sides of the road. As I drive I fumble in the glove compartment. There's at least twenty or thirty bottles of pills in there. Some are for my problem Asperger's Syndrome, and the others are for my mother's own problems she refuses to tell me about. I would take the pills, an easy way out, but why give such an anti-climactic end to a great building plot?





The road ahead of me slowly curves upward as I hastily force my foot as far down as I can on the accelerator. I know this road too well, and spent many days and nights crying at this place. It's the one spot in the road where there's no guardrail between the road and the cliff side. There's a beautiful view of the whole valley down below, a majestic and gorgeous landscape, the town being at the heart of it all. I cozies up in the valley land and the mountains on the other side, gentle falls to sleep.





My car skids to a stop on the gravel side of the road. I throw my door open and step out into the driving rain. I make sure to leave my note on the front seat, so they know what to do once my show is done. Then I turn towards the edge, and with each step closer I take to it, another prayer I pray to Jesus Christ. I never honestly believed in God, but as I pray I know I am being forgiven for all of my mistakes. And in that final moment, in that final streak of lighting from across the sky, from the raging storm above me, my show was over.



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This article has 4 comments. Post your own!

the_real_lamp-o-nator said...
Mar. 12, 2012 at 7:36 pm:
Very nice piece, carries a strong message. A few grammer mistakes, but thats alright. You said if I read/rate/comment you would do the same for me, so here is the link to my story: TeenInk.com/fiction/realistic_fiction/article/441594/If-there-was-ever-one-excerpt/
 
CautionwetPaint replied...
Mar. 14, 2012 at 6:54 am :
Thanks, and yeah definitely :)
 
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EternalNight said...
Mar. 12, 2012 at 6:36 pm:
Good Job. Very strongly written!
 
CautionwetPaint replied...
Mar. 12, 2012 at 10:03 pm :
Thanks! :)
 
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