Haven’t I given Enough

I walk into the house, and drop my bags in my room–THUD–they hit the floor as I fall into my bed exhausted from the day. I lay there for a couple of minutes then my mother barges into my room.

“Oh, you’re home, what’d you get on that test? Do you have any homework? Make sure you practice piano. I need you to watch your sisters.”Patiently she waits for my response. I say,

“I did all my homework at school, I’ll practice now. Ok I’ll watch them.”

“What about your test?” She asks again, I let out a sigh

“I got an 82%…” She gives me a look I’ve seen before,

“An 82%, you got a 95% last week, have you not been studying enough?”

“Maybe I don’t know, I’ll try harder.” 

She leaves my room and I fall back down onto my bed and take a deep breath. I’ve always been the one in my family that needed an A in every class. Be perfect at every song on the piano. Always waiting for my parents to tell me something new to do. 

My parents tell me that one day I’m going to be grateful that they push me so hard. But it just seems like I’m doing worse. I’m slowly failing classes, I’m losing friends, sleep, and all I want to do is lay down and take a really long nap till high school is over.

2 Roads

The trip was supposed to be fun, and exciting. But one day everything went wrong. When we got to the jungle we started settling into these huts. They were made of some type of green plant, with pink flowers all over them. They were around 6 feet tall and went from wide to very pointy at the top. The inside was bigger than we expected and we surprisingly all fit. The plan was to rest at the camp for today and then go on a hike tomorrow. As I fell asleep next to my best friends, I started to dream…at first, I was just walking through a thick jungle. Then I saw a jaguar, I began to run, I ran, and ran and ran then I fell off a cliff. I jolted awake, scaring my friends awake as well. It was day, time to start the hike. 

I warned my friends of the dream I had, and they all laughed it off, thinking I was paranoid. Maybe I was. We followed the trail until it reached a crossroads. The left road was covered with random leaves and trunks. It was dark due to the thick tree branches above it. The right path had these pinkish-blue flowers along the side and it was a paved trail for most of what we could see. Our group voted to take the right. If we had only chosen the left path, maybe all of my friends would still be alive.

My Real-Life Fairytale

As a big shooting star shone above the clouds in the starry night sky, I remember reading fairy tales of a princess being saved by a prince charming and living happily ever after. But here I was 20 years old and no prince charming in sight. The fairy tales lied. The stories that filled my childhood with fairies, godmothers, and princesses. Cinderella. Belle. Ariel. They all disappeared one day. The fairies turned into a neverending stack of homework, and the godmothers became overbearing parents with impossible expectations. And the princesses were the pretty girls at school that I could never be. Sometimes, I don’t know when my fairytales became my nightmares. I used to be happy. I used to be happy. Now, I’m not exactly sad, but I’m not happy. Just like the fairytales had disappeared so had my happiness. Suddenly, everything took effort, waking up, walking around, and doing normal things became bothersome and difficult. If only I could wish upon a star, for a different life, where fairytales happened in real life. I had a prince charming and I would be happy. But it’s just a wish.

The Day in the Woods

It was August 23, 2012. My friends and I were exploring this forest that was near my house. We had all been told stories about how it was haunted by a murderer who lived in a small little cabin. Of course, my friends and I thought they were fake and how funny it would be to prove it. We walked into the woods, and the heavy branches let in little light. We had 3 flashlights and it barely lit our way. As we found the little cabin, it looked cozier than we expected. Clothes were hanging outside, there were pink and red roses surrounding the house with a little white fence that had recently been painted. There was a cloud of smoke coming out of the chimney so we decided to knock on the door and meet whoever was in there. We knocked on the door, and we heard heavy footsteps, thump…thump…thump. Suddenly, the door swung open, and out stood a man around 6’5”.  He held a giant butcher knife in his hand. We screamed and ran. But then we were lost and our flashlights were out of batteries. We were lost in the dark forest with a murderer. We saw a light and started running to it. I yelled out stop, realizing we were running back to the cabin but no one heard me. I closed my eyes fearing for the worst. But then I heard laughter; it was all a prank. I sighed in relief. It was all a prank.

Passion For More

I sighed as I put the paintbrush down. Recently, painting was no longer fun, it became a task I hated doing. When I was younger I used to love it. Somewhere along the way, I lost that passion and love for it. I was shopping online when I saw this paintbrush. It was advertised as it will change how you see painting. Interesting enough for me, I thought and added to my cart. 2 hours later, I got a knock on the door. The paintbrush had arrived. That was quick, I thought. I might as well use it to finish this painting. It was an ad for a new brand of toothpaste, as I added the last strokes of red and blue to the painting, it suddenly leaped off the paper and onto my desk. I jumped up, what was going on. It suddenly made sense, it would change everything I paint into real life. First, I just drew flowers and the groceries I needed. Then I had the great idea to paint myself so I could sleep or do other things while the other one worked. As I added the last bit of blue to my eyes, instead of watching myself come out of the painting. I felt myself going in. First my fingers, then my stomach, and lastly my head. It felt like I had been sucked through a tube. Now all I see is white–no color. I lost the thing I loved the most: painting. When I lost my love for painting, I realized I lost myself in the process.