Mind of Mine

Yes, it was titled after Zayn Malik's solo album.

What are you supposed to do now? Everyone is gone, and those who aren't gone hate you. You're trapped here. In this house, this life, this world. You want to escape. You want to blend into the universe and float away. You would never come back if you could do that, which is just as well...no one would notice if you were gone. You are the forgotten. The unimportant. They have to remind themselves you're there just so they can ignore you. As sad as this is, as twisted, you wish everyone was like that. But everyone isn't like that. They see you. They hear you. They hurt you. With their words, or their hands, you never know which one is coming, but either way, you're left on the ground. After years of this- years and years- you do it again. You leave. You change. And you think it will be better because you left, but you're wrong. It's worse. They are older, bigger, meaner, and they hate you even more. What did you do this time to make them hate you? All you did was say your name. You're scared and you're confused until you realize that is what started it last time. You said your name.

"C-C-C-Cierra." 

That's what you said. You say it now. Over and over again. The more you say it the less you hear your fatal flaw, but still, you hate it. You hate that it was only the fourth time you said your name that it sounded correct. You hate that this one small thing has dominated you you're entire life. You hate that this one small part of you is the thing everyone judges you on. And they find you guilty. Guilty of what, you still don't know, even though it's been years and you've moved away and you've grown up and you're better now. Even though you now have people who don't hate you, who don't judge you at all, But you still hear their whispered verdicts in your mind whenever you're alone.

"Freak. Weird. Crazy. Retarded. Stupid. Ugly. Worthless." 

Over and Over again you hear it. In a different order, in a different voice, but the words stay the same. The sting stays the same. They are all gone. You have not seen any of them in years. They're hold has weakened, but their words have not. They're words make you shrink in a crowd, make you whisper in a room full of screaming people, make you suffocate in a room full of air. You try to make it better, you focus on the new ones, the nice ones, who want you around. But their presence is stronger still. Same voices, new words, same sting. This goes on for so long. Finally their voices fade, but the words remain. In a new voice. A more hate filled voice.

Your voice.

And there is no escaping this time. Just the fight. The fight to battle your voice in your head with new ones. Voices of family, words from songs, things that can consume you and drown out the evil that now lives in your head. This is how you will live, because it has now been six years, and this is what you do. You fight you own voice, and often times, you lose, until a new voice, a real voice, and a new face in front of you asks you what's wrong. Tells you you're being quiet, which is unlike you, and he wants to know what's wrong. You don't tell him. You want him to stay, so you smile and lie. Something so very familiar, but it's harder, because this is someone who just met you a few months ago. And already knows that your quiet is your fear. It's you losing today. It's bad. And he cares enough to ask. To keep asking. To look at you with a worried expression for the remainder of the day. And this, this look is what makes you fight harder. It reminds you that those words and those people are gone and someone DOES care and it reminds you that YOU are wrong and someone DOES care and you leave, sad and afraid but determined to fight harder for a new someone who notices your losing days. A friend. Something you haven't had since you were 8. A friend. A simple word with a simple meaning you understand but implications you can't even fathom. You never learned. You never felt or saw. But you try. You fight. And maybe one day, you will win. That is all you can really hope for. A maybe. A one day. 

But that's enough now. You have to get up now. You have to get dressed now. You have to raise your arm and wipe that stray tear from your cheek and go downstairs. That friend is down there with your son and you have to eat breakfast with them. You have to kiss him goodbye and take your son, to school. You have to silently thank him and God again that you aren't losing today. You have to thank them for letting you see a worried expression on a friend's face on a day you were losing. And you have to thank yourself, for finally being a voice that says get up instead of stay down.

The End.

Author's Note

I'm only seventeen so obviously I'm not married, but this is what I would want in the end. Don't be an ass.

Reviews

[indranet]

You have a great writing style. It's compelling and holds the reader.
A very emotionally raw piece and it's clear you're not holding back in your writing.

Don't succumb to cynicism... there's light at the other end of each tunnel.

[Lord of mad men]

Wow i will not be a a*s to say. Sorry that was kinda,qn a*s move. I find it is sad and sweet at the some time very beautifulm well done.i love how people dont wqnt the fairytake marriage anymore it us real which it wonderful but also horrible. But thats why it is the way it is. If that makes any sense. I am sixteen and talk about stuff that has not taken place yet or may never will. But it is fine because you seem very mature for your age by reading you work. One can tell you have done some things,seen,hear and experienced things that have made you grow. So so what if your seventeen you can know what you wabt and feel with out doing it.