Cry Wolf

December 19, 2008
By lozte BRONZE, Ithaca, New York
lozte BRONZE, Ithaca, New York
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Sitting still in the wake of her own depression staring back at the man She called Poppa. His eyes stayed fixed to the road as his hand, holding a lit cigarette, came to the edge of his lips. She watched as the tobacco burned red hot and a stray ash fell off into his lap. Her eyes fell, taking in the silence as a chance to think. What was there to think about?
Mum sat in the passenger seat holding her cigarette much more delicate than her husband. Taking a puff every now and then and then slowly blowing the smoke carefully and gracefully out the window. She couldn't help thinking of how harmful that smoke is to her virgin lungs. She shrugged and looked out the window.
"Are you alright?" Mum asked Poppa. He shrugged. "…Do you want me to drive?" Poppa shook his head. Mum nodded and turned to look out the window as well. Silence followed.
The windows were fogged a bit. She lifted her hand writing in the condensation 'Who Am I?' It was the question She has asked herself so many times before..
She closed her eyes wishing she knew. So unstable She was, and yet she tried a façade that gave her more courage in herself. A lie that took away from her own life. She chuckled slightly, wiping away the thought from her mind.
She couldn't help but let her mind wander back to only an hour before. The screaming. Was She really selfish? Was letting yourself get hurt by someone you love, really so selfish? The skin around her eyes was still stiff from the tears she had let pour out into her hands.
A yawn. Exhausted from the struggle with herself. Her ribs still ached.
Let it go, Poppa had said. Just let it go. She wished it was so simple as to just let go. Then maybe She would be happy again.
Mum's hand rests gently on Poppa's face stroking it and trying to make conversation. Poppa just shrugs and mumbles a few words inaudible to anyone in the backseat. Specifically anyone in the backseat. She looks out the window as She sees Mum hold onto his hand from the corner of her eye.
She shivers as he pulls away and lights another cigarette, definitely not good for her lungs. How selfish of her to think of her lungs. She giggles silently at the pain of remembrance.
Smoke filled her lungs and She let out a short cough. Damn, her ribs felt like they were going to rip out of her chest.
Complaining always got her parent's dirty looks and disapproving comments, so what was the point? Maybe she was wrong to feel pain for this. Maybe he was right and She should just let go.
Her body felt heavy as she slumped in the seat. Anxiety making her heartbeat faster and her breathing increase. It was then that everything came flooding at her as it often did when she was weak.
What will I become with marks like mine? What's even the point of being in school if I'll just fail? No one really knows the real me, but if they did would they still accept me? What if I never make anything of myself? What if I never find out who I really am? Why do I hate who I've become?!
Her mind baffled over all of these questions, only after she took a few deep breaths, which made her ribs throb, did the thoughts settle down slightly and she was able to calm her anxiety. She hated that. When her mind raced like that about things She didn't want to think about,.
Almost home.
She laughed to herself staring at the reflection of her smile. Almost foreign to her.
Closer and closer to home. She laughed again. Home. It didn't feel like Home anymore. Every time she entered her room She could feel her muscles burn. Screaming at her to stop. But if She stopped She would hear them fight. And if She could hear them fight, She would go mad.
Migraine. The last step of her anxiety. First being her panic, second her mind racing with every stored thought, and then finally a few moments later after her body calms down, the infamous Migraine that tore at her senses. She had gotten used to the adrenaline and following Migraine, but she could never get used to the thoughts. They were always reoccurring and some new, depending on what worries her at the moment.
She had brought this up to her family once before but it was dismissed as trying to get attention, so she never spoke of it again. What was the point if all she would get were dirty looks and disapproving comments? She had given up on stating her feelings, because whenever she spoke her mind she was crazy and didn't know what she was talking about.
She glares at her parents as they roll down the windows and light another cigarette. She clears her throat slightly trying to catch her breath as the smoke rolls back and the cold air fills her lungs once more…Almost home, she thought, almost home…

The author's comments:
It's funny looking back on this. I wrote it in the backseat of my parent's car, on my laptop, just observing, and writing it all down about a year and a half ago. So much has changed since then, if I were to write it again, looking back on the way things were, I could go on forever.

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