Her Diary
Spinning, Spinning
I should tell them.
That was my first thought upon waking up. It was still dark outside my window, so I knew that it had only been a few hours. Everything I had once known was spinning, confusing. My mind was blank, but at the same time, millions of theories and ideas raced through my head. I just wanted to scream, so I did.
A loud, piercing cry erupted from my throat, tearing through my lips and echoing through the house. I liked the sound.
I jumped when a loud banging came on my door, and my parents' anxious voices found their way to my ears through the crack under the door. I could hear them mumbling worriedly. The doorknob jiggled and they were in; the sight must have been an interesting one.
There stood my mother in her florid, pink and purple night gown, along with my dad wearing too-tight pajama pants and a big white work shirt. James, my brother, followed them in soon after, rubbing his eyes. And what they saw was me, just lying on my bed innocently looking up at them.
"Danielle, what on earth..?" Dad asked inquisitively, stern. Obviously, to them, nothing appeared wrong. And suddenly my previous statement about telling them seemed like a horrible idea. I didn't want anyone to find out, ever. I didn't want to talk to my parents. I resented them, how they could be so loving and trusting. And James was great, too. He had a perfect little eleven year old life.
"Nothing. You wouldn't understand, go away." I had never been so dismissive and disrespectful toward my parents, to anyone. I had always gotten along with my family, and I could tell this was a blow to them. The confusion and hurt in their eyes was enough to make me apologize. But I didn't. I rolled over, turning my back on the people that loved me most.
I still don't know why I did, and I regret it. My eyes shot holes through my walls, I was staring so hard. Finally, I heard the door close gently behind me and the footfalls of my family carrying them back to bed. I couldn't sleep, there was no way.
I neatened my appearance slightly and slipped on my favourite purple flip flops and walked outside. The moon was shining brightly, complimented by the twinkling stars that filled the dark sea in the sky. This was where I did my best thinking.
For some people, the night is a scary place, filled with uncertainties and the unknown. It held their worst fears in its inky depths, a black hole to them. But for me, the night was my friend. It kept my secrets and never judged me or talked back. I could spout my most ridiculous ideas and dreams without being scorned.
That night, I could not think. So I lay on the grass and let the hot, salty tears roll down my cheeks.
What now?
Nothing is as burdensome as a secret - French Proverb
That was my first thought upon waking up. It was still dark outside my window, so I knew that it had only been a few hours. Everything I had once known was spinning, confusing. My mind was blank, but at the same time, millions of theories and ideas raced through my head. I just wanted to scream, so I did.
A loud, piercing cry erupted from my throat, tearing through my lips and echoing through the house. I liked the sound.
I jumped when a loud banging came on my door, and my parents' anxious voices found their way to my ears through the crack under the door. I could hear them mumbling worriedly. The doorknob jiggled and they were in; the sight must have been an interesting one.
There stood my mother in her florid, pink and purple night gown, along with my dad wearing too-tight pajama pants and a big white work shirt. James, my brother, followed them in soon after, rubbing his eyes. And what they saw was me, just lying on my bed innocently looking up at them.
"Danielle, what on earth..?" Dad asked inquisitively, stern. Obviously, to them, nothing appeared wrong. And suddenly my previous statement about telling them seemed like a horrible idea. I didn't want anyone to find out, ever. I didn't want to talk to my parents. I resented them, how they could be so loving and trusting. And James was great, too. He had a perfect little eleven year old life.
"Nothing. You wouldn't understand, go away." I had never been so dismissive and disrespectful toward my parents, to anyone. I had always gotten along with my family, and I could tell this was a blow to them. The confusion and hurt in their eyes was enough to make me apologize. But I didn't. I rolled over, turning my back on the people that loved me most.
I still don't know why I did, and I regret it. My eyes shot holes through my walls, I was staring so hard. Finally, I heard the door close gently behind me and the footfalls of my family carrying them back to bed. I couldn't sleep, there was no way.
I neatened my appearance slightly and slipped on my favourite purple flip flops and walked outside. The moon was shining brightly, complimented by the twinkling stars that filled the dark sea in the sky. This was where I did my best thinking.
For some people, the night is a scary place, filled with uncertainties and the unknown. It held their worst fears in its inky depths, a black hole to them. But for me, the night was my friend. It kept my secrets and never judged me or talked back. I could spout my most ridiculous ideas and dreams without being scorned.
That night, I could not think. So I lay on the grass and let the hot, salty tears roll down my cheeks.
What now?
Nothing is as burdensome as a secret - French Proverb