The Breakdown

Volume rising on the TV. Alone in my space. Shouting arises, glass shattering, names being thrown in the next room over. The door opens as aroma of Rosemary Mint tea rushes in. Surrounded by the chants of anger. Not knowing what just happened, I jump on the monster that my mother had recently married when I saw the three numbers he was dialing. Shouts erupt in my head, screaming for him to stop. The vicious circles that form his eyes see me as he raises his fist, shoving me back. Watching my mother cower on the couch, I knew this was not right, because darkness had successfully seeped in to my life. Knocks echo on the front door, lies being exchanged; and I watch the hysterical cries of my mother as they pull her away not knowing the truth. The coldness crept in, making me succumb to the ground, face flushed in hateful anger. This moment marks a change in me, I am not the same as I use to be four years ago; a carefree, goofy child; but instead a more conservative, quiet person. This moment represents me looking at reality, where the real world hit me so fast, I thought I was spinning. Writing. Writing is the only thing that kept me from falling into the great abyss of hate. For being a kid in the 7^th grade, I naturally assumed that I’d just have the normal difficulties of middle school. I never expected to move to a new city, to a new school, have a new “dad”, and be somewhere I knew no one. That unforgettable day in that new town corrupted the innocent child I was and brought along a more careful adult like one. Because that day, I stood up for my mother who had been falsely accused by the LIAR, I tried to rid whatever nonsense had occurred, unsuccessful but in the end it pushed me on to be stronger and a strengthen my writing. Just like Newton’s first law, if this event did not hit me, I would not be on the path I now possess. My world had turned into darkness but through it I saw an outlet that forced some light on me and expanded my creativity. I believe this experience I encountered, made me more susceptible to see the world in a more detailed kind of way without the sugarcoating of it. I stand my ground more firmly, keeping my integrity intact. I won’t let anyone hurt me like my mother was hurt. My writing is the foundation of who I am, through my stories, I show strength. The force that threw me off my previous path has increased my ability to overcome many difficult obstacles.