I hope that who ever reads this, will understand there is help out there and death is not the way...
Show full author's note »
Broken home? No. Pain I can’t describe, a sadness deep down, that I can’t rid? Yes. This was only the beginning of it. Ever since I was a little kid I would find a reason to not smile. Every reply filled with anger, sadness, or sarcasm. Teacher with a concerned but stern voice, “Caroline what’s wrong?” Me with a sarcastic hopeful small voice of a simple, “Nothing.” Well it was something. I don’t know what it was, but every action I’ve done, that came with consequences, was my only cry for help. “Timing is everything, don’t lose yourself in it.” Is what I always told myself.
I had a family of five. Two parents, two sisters that were twins, and two brothers that were also twins. Of coarse I was the middle child. With Kari and Tara always off to tennis or dance, or Dayton and Jason always wrapped up about baseball or hockey. Two loving, caring, warm-hearted parents always going to competitions between games and work, no one ever had the time to ask me why I didn’t want to join anything, that would make me a happy go-lucky kid I was suppose to be with the oh so perfect family everyone seen.
My life quote based around timing, came to me because of all of the chaos I watched my family get lost in. Everything was always on schedule. One minute late was always a life crises. Everyone was always so caught up in the time, they lost the thought and wonderment of where they went wrong with me.
Most of the time, who am I kidding? All of the time I never once went to a game or a competition.
I remember sitting on the black leather couch in the living room of my house. With the warm fireplace going. Kari and Tara were talking about what they would wear the next day for the first day of school. All Jason and Dayton could talk about was how they would be the stars of this years hockey team. While my parents watched the news, there was a breaking headline. “13 Year Old Girl Commits Suicide with shotgun” My parents sighed, “Good thing we raised our kids right.” I sat there curled up in the corner of the couch staring at the flame of the fire. Feeling its warmth wave over me and blow my short dyed black hair I never bothered to move out of my face. I felt like that flame. I was burning and an anger was rising in me. I stood up and went to the middle of the living room. As I looked at everyone sitting in the living room. My rampage began. “Good thing you raised your kids right?” I screamed in a questionable voice. “ GOOD THING YOU RAISED YOUR KIDS RIGHT? What about me? What with me did you do different? Do you ever wonder about me? I swear the only time you’ll notice me is if I wasn’t breathing?” They all just stared at me and told me I was right and after that everything was perfect. Now only if the images I created in my head came true. Instead I let the big flame in me rise, went upstairs to go to bed and not have to think about what I really wanted to say.
That was years ago. Now I’m seventeen. Dayton and Jason were off to college, there goes two kids gone. Kari and Tara were just two years younger than me. I never got along with Tara, but Kari I could talk to. I sometimes like to think she was suppose to be my twin. I think that because it always looked like she knew what was really going through my head. Heck, I never knew what was really going through my head.
The first day of school was just tomorrow, I was not excited one bit. I hated school more than anything. I was kicked out five times last year. For what? For refusing to do my work. Okay, I lied. I would get a little violent with some of the students. Maybe once in a while I ticked off my teachers. Big deal, right? Finally, after the fifth time my parents took me out of school for the last two months, to home school me. Since then, I have seen multiple therapists, took way too many mental crazy people tests, and even got a school tutor. My parents got the great idea that I was now ready to attend school again. I have no clue where they got that idea. None of this help that I have been wanting and didn’t know how to get, helped. I was too scared to ever say anything. I didn’t want a label to be put on me saying crazy. That’s when I finally started to pretend I was okay. My need to make people think I was okay was way over board. I lied about having friends and lied on every single question and test that was going to determine if I was crazy.
I recall once in the summer it was pouring rain out. I told my parents I was going to go hang out with my friend I met at the summer camp I was forced to go to. Well, I lied I never actually had any friends. I would walk about two miles out of my small town, find a hiking path and go sit in a random spot in the woods. I would sit there for hours on end. I sat there in the pouring rain. Taking shelter in a big tall pine tree. I balled for hours thinking to myself, “ What is wrong with me?” I mean I lied to my parents about going to see a friend I didn’t have. Just to make sure people thought I was okay. I wanted help, I needed help. I couldn’t stand to live like this any longer. I liked to think to myself I was just self pitying, but it was more, I knew there had to be more. The emptiness I felt in my black hole of heart everyday since a child, never went away. The only thing I was good at now was putting on a pretty, fake face.