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Over The Wall
It happens as I enter my room: the all-too-familiar feeling of anxiety wraps me up like a blanket. I lay out the tan crop top and black flare leggings, pondering if they are ‘good’ enough. I can’t look bad, because people will judge, but I need to study for a test. If I bomb the test, people will think I’m stupid. Maybe I am, maybe, maybe… I think about how that one time I had not worn designer clothes to an event, and I was asked if I could afford it by a peer. I also think about the time when I had a C on a test; someone had asked if I was going to a lower class.
My breathing becomes jagged, and my stomach feels as though it dropped, similar to the way it does on a roller coaster. Not now, please, not now.
I think about how when I was small and unaware of the world, I would sing the song “You Are My Sunshine” at the top of my lungs, for all to hear. My parents had sung it to me when I was sad, and when I scraped my knee. I had sung it to myself when I panicked and quit in an orchestral audition. Oh my God, they probably laughed so hard. Thinking about the past is like living a dream; I had been myself once. But you won’t now, otherwise the world will see you as someone who doesn’t care, who doesn’t care about society. As I watch myself brush my teeth in the mirror, I begin to feel a wave of emotion creep up on me, forcing out a sob. Shut up, crying makes you weak. I cry, but I hear the song in the back of my mind, and somehow it calms me down and assures me I will make it through these woods of uncertainty. It’s hard to shake thoughts and memories one has had for years. I click off the blinding lights and listen to myself murmur the words to the calming tune as I fall asleep, the darkness sucking me into obsidian.
***
I can tell when I’m dreaming; everything seems real, but not exactly as it does in real time. Wind rushes past me and my hair is flying. I suddenly realize I am plummeting to the ground, like a baby bird who failed to fly. There’s a voice in the distance, and it sounds muffled, like it came from underwater. I can hear the deep sound and feel the vibrations it renders. As it gets closer, I start to understand what it says:
“You bring the rain.”
“You will never be anyone’s sunshine”
“Look at you; who wants anything to do with that?”
“Nothing but a stupid try-hard”
“….Stupid try hard”
My blood is boiling, and my eyes, which had been full to the brim with tears, have overflowed. Even in dreams, I could only disappoint. My friends appear, but as I run to them-my saviors-, they pull away, acting like I was ill.
“We put up with you. You are always looking good, acting good, seeming good, but you probably only do it to hide your real self. You try and try and still no one likes you.”
My face’s color drains. They had been the only people who helped me when I was at wit’s end, and here they were, pushing me away. They’re right, though, I think. I did care too much about what others thought of me, and how I appeared. I never answered questions, raised my hand, all because I was afraid people would hate me. A childish reason, you’re such a wimp. I had let it get so out of control, so powerful, that it came back to get me, like a past mistake. It had been the puppeteer.
My legs give in, and I fall down. I could only taste tears, only hear myself cry. I didn’t want to be like this, but there was no way out. I was condemned to this torture. Suddenly my cousin appears next to me. Stella!
“St..Stella…” I say over my salty and bitter tears.
She looks sad, her bubbly personality gone. Stella stares at me, confused and disappointed, her eyes two deep brown pools with no expression.
“Gwyneth…you need to stop beating yourself up like this…” She says.
Stella is right and I know it. It’s really powerful coming from her, she’s family, and right after she said that, Stella vanished. Before I realize what’s happening, I find myself screaming:
“I don’t care what anyone thinks of me because they can’t help me go further! Ten years from now this won’t be anything but a dream! So stop it! Please…” I gasp, shaking like an earthquake struck my weak body. My mind is racing- what in the world had I just admitted? Was it true? It felt true, in fact it felt like I had breached a barrier that had been miles thick. You know it’s not true… lying is bad… don’t listen to yourself, you know I’m right. The ground shatters beneath me, and I feel myself plummet into the emptiness surrounding me and return to real life.
***
My eyes shoot open. Whatever just happened, it had been scary, but surreal. Once again, my heart beats as if I had run a marathon. Not just run one, but won. The first thing my thoughts shift to is “You Are My Sunshine”. Maybe I could be my own sunshine, and not stress about trying to be who everyone wants me to be. I’ve made myself happy before, but being caught up in doing that for everyone has affected my independence and my choices. Being free of the pressure to please others would enable me to please myself, do what I want to do, and most importantly, be who I want to be. I get out of bed, despite my alarm not having gone off yet, and I toss the outfit I had laid out the previous night into the laundry bin.
Instead, I put on one of my favorite outfits. The fit consists of a white beach shirt with a necklace, and shorts. It was from a trip I took and I had not been confident enough to wear it, fearing people would think it weird. Well too bad for them, I think. Knowing that I am not out to make others like me has helped me discover more of who I am and my interests. I will always remember that feelings and thoughts cannot be escaped, but recognizing them and processing them can help people overcome these obstacles. This new mindset feels like being free of chains that were fastened to the rocks of society, and I like it. There was a quote I heard a while back, “A bruise is a lesson... and each lesson makes us better.” It was real, that struggles can teach you something, and now I know that. I walked out of my room, a smile creasing my face; I wanted to try, I really did, and it had been one of the best choices I ever made.
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