Chaos

·I sit on the filthy, paisley chair with the debris of an earlier fight scattered at my feet. Old homework from my past school and better times floats down beside me. Junk food wrappers that were yelled about before being tossed on the ground, forgotten, hide below dirty clothes littered around my feet. Think of a tornado hitting, then imagine an average looking, slightly overweight, tall girl typing away amidst the wreckage on a partially cracked laptop.

I’m breathing heavily partially from just getting over a cold, the dust filling the room, and having my first break from an intense chase of ‘don’t break my phone or you can never play games on it again’ around the neighborhood. I hear my brother fiddling around in the kitchen looking for food he stole from the store just quietly enough so my mother won’t hear him from the door less bedroom.

A moment later he moves to his desk and shuffles through his Nerf gun pieces while starting to mod a new gun when he accidently stabs himself in the finger. As blood pools in his hand and drops to my Arabic papers on the ground I look up slowly and am pulled away from the documentation of the world around me to actually becoming a part of it. I clean the trail of blood he left and tell him to wash his cut off. I drop back into my chair and stare outside at the same way I do every day, through the sheer curtains barely holding back the evening light. As I look my mind’s clock ticks back to an hour before where I broke down the front gate to escape the cold when that same brother, whose blood I cleaned, had locked me out after he cracked my phone again and was afraid of my revenge that was supposedly soon to come. Eventually when I made It inside, there was really no revenge I needed to get, karma did that for me. I look down to the bloodstained sheets of paper littering the ground below me.

Sometimes in times like these I whisk my mind away from the harsh reality to the never land inside my mind. The imaginary world that will never be real, but can be my beautiful island escape when there is nowhere else to go. The light fades outside the curtains as my brother rips open a band aid beside me. This is the first different thing to happen in many days, many days of sitting in the musty room typing away at a flashing screen. Sometimes I go through an especially bad day where I question my sanity or lose myself somewhere deep in the ocean of my mind to be found hours later, by a oblivious mother, curled up in a ball on the bed staring at the cottage cheese ceiling. I see faces in the ceiling some days, men around the fire, a witch with her cauldron, and occasionally the horror filled face of an unfamiliar person I hope will never appear in the darkening haze that is my reality. Jeez that sounds really depressing doesn’t it? My life isn’t always that terrible, I mean, even in the Devil’s cave (the deep water trench in the desert) there’s pockets of air.
Let’s back up because we’re getting a bit too deep into describing me. How bout we just say that I’m tall but not tall enough, tan skin when I’m lucky, long brown unruly hair, and I have too many insecurities to name. We could start off like all the other stories saying, I like animals, reading, dancing, acting, and someday I hope to be rich and famous. We could say that I’m waiting for a prince charming to whisk me off my feet and ride away on a white horse into the sunset. WE could say that I live an average life with an average family in a pretty nice house somewhere in the suburbs. But I don’t, and I won’t be waiting for my prince charming because I’ve been around long enough to know they don’t exist. (The original one just wanted Cinderelly because he thought she was hot, and then she had to put up with a shoe- loving rich kid until she got old and ugly, which of course was when she got the boot right back into her rat infested maid’s quarters. But hey, at least she had a more interesting life than my own.)

I sit alone passing the days assuming the boring routine of schoolwork is actually getting me somewhere I want to be. I feel trapped, lost, like I’ve gone through so much in life, when really the worst of my worries is whether I actually want to go to college or pursue an entertainment career in Hollywood like so many other young hopefuls. It’s such a first world problem, although that’s probably where my depression stems, the feeling that I’m not fulfilling my potential. But here I am getting off track again when I should be saying; the day my brother got stabbed (by himself) was the day the first domino tipped over.
Even now I relive the sureness I felt that day that my life had hit rock bottom, but little did I know that the wispy tendrils of chaos were only just beginning to find an interest.

Notes

Hope you like it and I'd totally be open for constructive criticism comments! Also, follow me on tumblr @hatelovinghazza and tell me you read my story cause I'd love to meet you guys and creep your accounts :P
PS Please don't copy this story because I will find you and I will kill you... lol jk but really pleas don't because I've worked really hard on it and I'd probs try to sue you.