Hands tucked timidly into pockets of a fading gray jacket, expression increasingly hardened, unreadable- she dodges the others with the goal of remaining as unnoticed as possible. But against her wishes, escaping the place and peers she most wanted to be isolated from was unrealistic; there was no way to alleviate the anxieties and insecurities that making school nearly intolerable. To everyone she was Emma, but she tried adjusting herself into nobody, and to me- we're one in the same.

The now notorious and obviously troubled girl walks in the class late again, leisurely. Not a hint of worry comes from the slip handed to her, stating the next disciplinary action against her numerous misconducts. What crosses her mind is judgmental stares of classmates in a painfully quiet room. Sinking into a seat, feeling defeated, she composes this passage to relieve her mind:
Shipwreck
“It's easy to let myself slip into stages of what I consider to be mild depression. I see the world around me go by in what seems like a blur. Everyone around me just continues on with their own problems, unaware how deceiving looks can be...I find myself wanting to leave and forget about education or a positive future. After all, focusing on school work is hardly an option when I continuously feel as if I'm wasting space. Someone else deserves the desk I'm currently sitting in more than myself...Probably the worst part of telling yourself that you'll never be good enough is that, eventually, you become so bitter that the term 'ugly' makes sense.”

Those were words originating from my brain- I am Emma. If I could recall every intricate detail of this life, recording my faults over the years onto sheets of paper, I'm convinced an environmentalist would shame me for the amount of trees destructed. I don't fit the depiction of “perfect,” nor do I believe that perfection's a goal that can be fulfilled. It might as well be impossible. I am a human being. Just like any other of my species, I must fight for survival, or be swept away like miniscule grains of sand lost in vast oceans of H20 molecules and life.

I often wonder about parent-hood. How would a mother or father explain to their young the difficulties they will have to overcome and the situations that hold the family hostage, without ridding them of their childhood- their innocence?

It's become apparent that someone desires having children when their own adolescent days are subsiding, or are long gone. In many situations, a parent will go out of their way to prevent the real world from taking their kids too fast. A prime example being my parents- their attempt to not expose me to our disappearing funds, failing business, and my brother's escalating issues with addiction and misbehavior. For them, shielding me from emotional pain must have seemed like the safest route to go at the time. Their intentions were undoubtedly harmless.

I am not that innocent, juvenile girl from the past. Despite my parents attempts, I am now aware of situations happening around me I was too young to notice before. I've become used to deceiving- it's almost a second nature. The only truth lies within myself, and no one understands what goes through my mind- thoughts of a person slowly loosing control of their own being. No, I am aware my sight on reality is blurring, but is it the drugs or my sanity seeping out of me, like blood oozing from the wounds of a corpse?

The depression has sank in. These thoughts consume me, taunt me, take over me mentally and physically as I struggle to return the fight. I have come out of the distortion of a perfect world, now engulfed in a place filled with disappointment and suffering, while caught between my childhood and journey into adulthood; an insect in a spider's web.

I am lost. I am weak. I will continue to isolate myself from the people who I feel have betrayed me, stabbed me until I'm almost transparent- holes everywhere. I'll torture myself mentally, testing to see if I have what it takes to really give up, and let Death himself take away a child from a deserving couple too early just as they had originally feared.

I contemplate what's happening to me. What set this off, pushing me to reach this point of hopelessness, of mental instability? Pin-pointing one thing is unlikely, so much is changing simultaneously. The trust towards those around me has vanished.

Yes, I've lived in the same Indiana home since birth, a red-bricked beauty in an up-scale neighborhood. Each yard is well-maintained and a child's perfect play ground. I am not “poor,” never have been, but my parents' dream house is trapping us under it's cost, sucking up all money like a vacuum. I haven't been exposed to this before, not on such a severe level. Monthly bills can't be paid. Twenty or more rings of a phone from debt collectors today, all wanting their fair share of money from us no longer in existence. I want to answer this time, cuss at them, tell them to screw themselves and shout, “Why must we be harassed, reminded of our failures? Do you feel our pain, and it brings a smirk to your disgusting face?”
But I unplug the cord from the wall instead and once again remain quiet, screaming on the inside, unknowingly refusing to show that I'm no longer okay.

It's mid-day, I have returned from school. I feel drained of all emotions, all words. I want to go upstairs, be alone, so I do. No one says anything.
I shut my closet- it's door separates me from the rest of the world. All I know is the nothingness I feel buried deep in my bones. Breathe smoke softly, forget why I was hurting, then breathe in more when I remember again. I do this without thinking, as if my life depends on it, because it does. It is all I have left to escape this pain. Without it, I might as well make my way towards Hell. I'm only kidding myself, I am lying once again.

Shut up. God is a myth created by man. Jesus was nothing more than a man, and man itself can not be trusted. They are spiteful. There's no worse Hell than Earth, this life.
I imagine Harry Potter, the words “I must not tell lies” carved into his arm, glossy and red.
I deserve that.

No, this is wrong. Who's inside of my head? It can't be me, battling my own conscious.

Each trying to toss the burdens holding us down, my family's stress is too much to handle. We are cracking under the pressure, fighting amongst each other like a pack of starving wolves with a hunk of raw flesh thrown at them. I feel ignored and unwanted. This new taste of both deprivation and lonesomeness has caused me to retract from society, resulting in the same pain I started with. It is a cycle, where one unfortunate thing keeps leading to another. I'm spinning uncontrollably, around and around again.
Just when I believe there is nothing more to give...
I'm back.

Hi, my name's Emma. Nice to meet you.

Epilogue:

It's easy for one to feel cornered by their current struggles. I felt as if life was turning into a convoluted maze- dead ends at each turn that kept sending me back, forcing me to pick up where I left off and hope to find an exit with time. It's ironic, how all I wanted was to be noticed by my family and peers, yet I tried making myself invisible.

For whoever is reading this, you should know that as of right now, I'm no different than a forest creature, creeping out of a long hibernation. Unaware of what was really going on around me, I've been exhausted- mentally, physically, emotionally- and have just began to wake up.

Naturally, entering high school for the first time set me back. I lost touch of many friends I had felt cared for me and was in an awkward position at the bottom of the social chain again, being the youngest. In no position to make new friends from insecurities and rising issues at home, I began intentionally ignoring those I did have left; my ability to see right from wrong became clouded.

My brother's addiction turned severe. He was betraying our family, that's all that I could see. But he had also saved me and I couldn't accept it yet. Just as I reached my weakest point, the drugs seemed to have loosened their hold on him; I refused to give up and loose my best friend. I had twisted my common sense to the point that I envied my brother's wrong doings. He had all the attention possible on him, and although most of it was very negative, I still wanted it. Had I not realized the consequences of addiction over summer when I saw him hit “rock-bottom,” a complete mess with a very lengthy list of regrets, I probably couldn't say the following:

I am in the process of recovery. It's not easy, and doesn't happen fast. Patience really is a virtue. I'm going out of my way to improve myself, mind and body, but I undoubtedly have weak moments pulling me down. Yet, I feel hope.

Us humans as a race are intertwined. When “life throws us a curve ball,” we have two options: 1. Play it out. 2. Let it take over and win. If we all give up, human beings could become nothing more than dinosaurs or other extinct species Earth has contained over it's many years of existence. Our magnificent accomplishments- complex technologies to explore mysteries of the universe being one of many- and brilliant minds such as Albert Einstein or leaders like Gandhi forgotten and wasted.

Our world is beautiful and ugly, but the beautiful aspects of life are so wonderful that they are worth living for, despite the ugliness. I believe difficult situations make each of us stronger and wiser. If we can persevere, new-found happiness should be on its way.