change
Some say that crying is a sign of weakness. For me, it kills time.School is no longer a time to learn, but an endurance test. How long will I stay sane?I conceal myself, inside a shell of camouflage. The same baggy jeans and crinkled shirt as everyone else. Trying not to stand out, trying to fit in.I smile, I joke, I laugh, but inside I feel empty. The joy I once had has been painted black. My father is no longer here in my mind. In his eyes I am a failure, a rope dragging down the family name. My exam results last term proving just how useless I am. My brothers laughed as my mother sighed and turned to her room. The stare from my father's cold blue eyes said it all: you do not belong, you are not mine. It proved the point that I was only my mother's child and marriage could not justify a failure as a stepson.My real father died when I was young, a tattered photo the only memory I have left. Being raised by my mother only re-confirmed my 'sissy boy' image my 'jock' bothers had invented. Fortunately, a private school was not to be wasted on me and I was sent to a government school where I could get peace, away from home. It was holidays I would dread and soon enough school, as the depression flooded through all areas of
I hadn't cried in years, let alone hugged my mother the way I did that day. We had a large property so I had the space I needed to 'get away' from my parents. With no close friends to hang out with I found it easier to dawdle around, no thoughts in my mind. My grades went lower, my fights with my parents more frequent. My mother had brought in a counselor as per the doctors advice. Just the fresh autumn breeze hitting my face. I had almost completed a TAFE course which would enable me to get into University. I had opinions, rights, and could no longer control my unpredictable rushes of anger. I had always had a knack of helping people and listening to what they had to say. I began needing 'hits' to keep me balanced. I did it daily before my downhill fall, believing I could help others feel better if not myself. I had let my camouflage fade and I was no longer obsessed with being the unseen.
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