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Being Strong, Being Controlled, Being There
By
Colors_of_the_Wind

Being Strong, Being Controlled, Being There

Be strong... be controlled... be there... that's all that matters right now.

Walk in, slowly- painfully slowly, so it takes as long to get back to that seat as possible. Breathe in, breathe out, unnoticed breathing, but calming breathing. Swallow those feelings, you had to be strong, strong and patient. Willing to be that, and to shove some of your feelings aside, so you could be that way. Sit down, finally sit down next to her, look at the teacher as the bell rings, as her how she is. Speak a little German during the class period, say bye to the teacher in German (though it isn't bye, it's more a "see you tomorrow"), ask her if she wants something to eat. Veggie pizza is usually what's asked: "Want some veggie pizza today?" If she says yes, you get it and do a tiny little happy dance that she's eating. If she says no, you say a simple okay and get up and walk down the stairs- slowly, deliberately, controlled. Everything controlled, everything saying "I'm strong, I will be strong, for her, around her, I will help, and to do that, I must be strong."-get your lunch, go back up the stairs, back into the room. Usually there are two more people by now, one she will talk to all of lunch and you'll join in every once in awhile, the other you'll talk to all of lunch. She doesn't join in, most of the time, and if she does it's something the other person said, not you.

Bell rings. Lunch is over. She's gone before you know it, so is her friend and your friend. Pack your stuff up- slowly, deliberately, so you can think a little before you dive into the flood of people- and walk out of the room, down the hall. You have two more classes, you finish those, get home.

Sit on your bed, think. Your throat closes up, especially if she said no that day, but you swallow it all down and go back out into the family room, cut through with your headphones in your hands, out to the front room of the house- half family computer and entertainment, half parents' bedroom- and sit at the computer, blast your music. Write your stupid stories, all those awareness pieces that everybody reads, but do any of them really understand... the pain of walking into that room everyday, especially when she says no? Their comments make you wonder that, because it's all about the piece, not about what you and them have talked about, not about how it would make them feel in that situation, but then, who really wants to think about that if they aren't in it? Nobody really does, so you don't blame them for it, and you just keep writing this stuff, because you hope that one day it might make a difference, or it might help you to get it out, or maybe she's on this site and reading it all, but making no comment because she doesn't have one yet. The last one is very far-fetched and you don't believe it, not really, but you can't help but hope it, so you keep writing: for her, for them, and, very last on that list, for you, because after all this music is blasted, and you've slept, you have to get back up and do it all over again, and after all this today, and the thought of tomorrow, you need some way to release those emotions.

And so, you write.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright 2012-2019 by Aria Leitner aka Colors_of_the_Wind

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