The Saints Of Mibba
Seven Years.
I'm not anyone important. I'm not the best at anything, I'm especially not the smartest person, as I've done my fair share of stupid things before. I'm not much of a hero, though I've been called one before, and I'm definitely not the most outgoing, or confident. I'm a teenaged girl. My brother warned me, the day I turned thirteen. I still remember his exact words.
"Get ready for the seven years old hell Sasha. It'll be the best and worst time of your life."
I laughed at first, I laughed. I didn't care, I didn't understand. When I turned fourteen last year I understood exactly what he was warning my about. He was warning me about people, the world, how people would treat me.
When I was thirteen, that year was an amazing year. By far one of the best years of my life. I had amazing friends, I wasn't popular but that didn't bother me, and most of all I knew who I was. The day I turned fourteen I started to understand what was happening. One of my friends admitted to using me for some sick joke or whatever, one of my friends wanted to kill me and I didn't know a thing about what to do.
I didn't care though. They left, I got more friends and I moved on, we all moved on. I grew into my own person even more. I was more sarcastic, I lied a little more. Everyone lies right? That's what I told myself anyway. In the long run though, those lies will come back and bite me in the ass like they usually do.
Most people don't know me. They know me as the quiet girl that hangs out with so-and-so, the smart girl that doesn't talk a lot, the girl who sits in the back and writes in a notebook all class, looking up at the teacher every once and a while. A lot of people don't know my name. I know their's though. They don't know mine.
"The seven years of hell Sasha. I'm telling you though, it gets worse before it gets better."
I'm not sure about the worse. I don't know if being in the hospital for nineteen hours is the abyss of my teenaged years or not. It wasn't under my control, it wasn't my fault. I don't remember half of what happened, I was on pain killers all day, an IV in my arm and all I remember really is crying. I remember my mother crying, my brother wanting to know what's going on and my dad getting mad at doctors because it took them hours to figure out what was wrong. I stayed for nineteen hours, and in the end the only thing I needed was a prescription. A simple prescription to take every day for six months, a powder to mix in with a drink before bed.
"That's not even close to the abyss kid, you haven't experienced high school yet."
On the first day of high school, freshman year, the year that I would get away from everything and actually focus on something more than my education. The first day I got asked out by a boy who had four girlfriends already. It was in a note too, he wrote that he wasn't good with writing notes and that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. I got scared. I wrote no, simple, plain, straightforward. The next day after school he stopped me and yelled at me. He held onto my arms and yelled at me.
"Why? Tell me that!"
I told him and he came close to hitting me. But I got to him first. I kicked him in the shin and ran. That's the only thing I could do, the only thing I knew how to do. I asked my friend if I did the right thing and she laughed and said to me that it was. I haven't talked to him since. I'm glad, I've seen him, he's turned the other way every time. That wasn't the abyss either.
Sometimes I feel like screaming my name to everyone that doesn't know it. Sometimes I feel like punching a wall until there's a hole in it. I'm not anyone. I'm not a hero, a saint, the best, the worst, or anything like that. I'm me. That's who I am. I wouldn't want to be anything or anyone else.
"This is just the beginning kid. There's so much more to come."
"Get ready for the seven years old hell Sasha. It'll be the best and worst time of your life."
I laughed at first, I laughed. I didn't care, I didn't understand. When I turned fourteen last year I understood exactly what he was warning my about. He was warning me about people, the world, how people would treat me.
When I was thirteen, that year was an amazing year. By far one of the best years of my life. I had amazing friends, I wasn't popular but that didn't bother me, and most of all I knew who I was. The day I turned fourteen I started to understand what was happening. One of my friends admitted to using me for some sick joke or whatever, one of my friends wanted to kill me and I didn't know a thing about what to do.
I didn't care though. They left, I got more friends and I moved on, we all moved on. I grew into my own person even more. I was more sarcastic, I lied a little more. Everyone lies right? That's what I told myself anyway. In the long run though, those lies will come back and bite me in the ass like they usually do.
Most people don't know me. They know me as the quiet girl that hangs out with so-and-so, the smart girl that doesn't talk a lot, the girl who sits in the back and writes in a notebook all class, looking up at the teacher every once and a while. A lot of people don't know my name. I know their's though. They don't know mine.
"The seven years of hell Sasha. I'm telling you though, it gets worse before it gets better."
I'm not sure about the worse. I don't know if being in the hospital for nineteen hours is the abyss of my teenaged years or not. It wasn't under my control, it wasn't my fault. I don't remember half of what happened, I was on pain killers all day, an IV in my arm and all I remember really is crying. I remember my mother crying, my brother wanting to know what's going on and my dad getting mad at doctors because it took them hours to figure out what was wrong. I stayed for nineteen hours, and in the end the only thing I needed was a prescription. A simple prescription to take every day for six months, a powder to mix in with a drink before bed.
"That's not even close to the abyss kid, you haven't experienced high school yet."
On the first day of high school, freshman year, the year that I would get away from everything and actually focus on something more than my education. The first day I got asked out by a boy who had four girlfriends already. It was in a note too, he wrote that he wasn't good with writing notes and that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. I got scared. I wrote no, simple, plain, straightforward. The next day after school he stopped me and yelled at me. He held onto my arms and yelled at me.
"Why? Tell me that!"
I told him and he came close to hitting me. But I got to him first. I kicked him in the shin and ran. That's the only thing I could do, the only thing I knew how to do. I asked my friend if I did the right thing and she laughed and said to me that it was. I haven't talked to him since. I'm glad, I've seen him, he's turned the other way every time. That wasn't the abyss either.
Sometimes I feel like screaming my name to everyone that doesn't know it. Sometimes I feel like punching a wall until there's a hole in it. I'm not anyone. I'm not a hero, a saint, the best, the worst, or anything like that. I'm me. That's who I am. I wouldn't want to be anything or anyone else.
"This is just the beginning kid. There's so much more to come."
♠ ♠ ♠
by Sing