I look through my family photos as tears grow wings and magically fly down my face. What happened to me? Ever since I moved here I’ve been harassed and tortured.
Its as though someone took a hammer and cracked their moms expensive vase.
You’re the hammer, I am the vase. And my mom’s job is to glue me back together.. just like she always does. My mom isn’t home, so its my job to try and stay in one piece.
In each photo my smile is contagious. Even though I’m in pain I cant help but stretch my mouth from one ear to the other.
“Those were the good old days” I remember saying so clearly out loud.
I go upstairs to calm myself and put on the TV.
‘Life of Ryan’ is the only thing on which means ill be forced to watch more drama. Although, it is nice to know I’m not the only one in pain.
During the episode-while I’m still crying-the topic Ryan and his brother Shane talk about makes me stop and listen. They were talking about how things will get better even though its tough now. I remember the photos I just looked at as they play a flashback/home video on TV, that’s when Shane says “Those were the good old days”. In that moment I realize that even though were 3,000 miles away, we both feel the same and were both connected. We both feel the pain of being hurt by another. Even though he was mainly thinking about his parents and their divorce and I was thinking about the people around me. The stabbing you feel is worldwide and everyone feels it, no matter if your reason to crack is different from everyone else.
I remember how my life happened.
I lived in Oregon and had many friends, then my parents got divorced. I moved to New Jersey and had no one but my mom. She wasn’t any help do to the fact that she needed to work so we could live here. Then in 5th grade I tried to be someone who I wasn’t, I tried to be in the “in” crowd and only wore designer brands. By sixth grade I realized that I needed to be me, that’s when things really got out of hand. In 7th grade I gained weight from stress and depression. I really couldn’t take it anymore.
But, now I’m in 8th grade, or should I say 9th grade? I know who I am and no one can get me down, I’m happier than ever and I’ve already lost some of the weight I put on. Even though I may not have one clique, I make sure to be friends with everyone.
Every year on my birthday I wish for the same thing, and every year I get closer and closer to my wishes coming true
Yeah in those photos, they were the good old days, but the better days have yet to come.
I make sure to talk to everyone, no matter what “group” they’re in or how high their social status is. I can see your eyes follow me every which way, I can see that you envy me being able to have the confidence to talk to anyone, knowing that I could be made fun of for every move I take. I can see your not who you say you are, I can see that you have secrets inside that NO ONE in your circle of friends will ever know. I can see that you make fun of others to keep yourself from talking. When you point a finger at someone, there are 3 pointing back at you. When that day comes around and your secret spills, I’ll be here waiting to help.
I am the vase and you are the broken hammer, but I will always use my mothers glue to put you back together.
I believe in my good old days and I believe as the days go by they get better and better.
Oh yeah, and I believe I take what my mom teaches me and use the lessons for good to help others.