My Recycled Soul (A Sample)

In Science, a boy named Aaron sits at the desk in front of me. Now and again, he turns in his chair and talks to the girl sitting next to me while looking in my direction. This makes me feel self-conscience, so I always pretend I do not see him, ignoring him completely, looking through him.

I only say what is necessary in class, and if a teacher or an adult speak to me at school, I respond automatically. For me, the students all melt together into a giant blur. Besides, I do not want to be here. All I want is for things to go back to the way it was - the way it is supposed to be.

Going home every day, I smile and pretend I am the happiest individual ever to walk the earth, mostly to keep the worry out of my mom's eyes and not to have her convince me - once again - that although I am unhappy now, I will soon see that everything happens for a reason.

I go out to my hideout every afternoon, where I can be myself without having to pretend I was happy. I swear and curse, moan and grumble, sitting in the same place every day. The moss on the trunk is starting to rub off and the whiteness of the long fallen trunk is starting to shine through all the green.

I always seem to feel better here, as if this is my little heaven in the midst of the larger hell out there. I can draw courage from the surroundings. It is as if my soul feels a little lighter, and then when I go back into the house, I can convince my mom I am happy. I can smile and in doing this I can make her smile.

During the mid-term break, as the days drag by, and in the safety of my sanctuary, I blame my mom and Sean for this unfortunate thing happening to me. They ruined my life permanently, and they stole my happiness away from me. I am so lonely now and I am positive, I will never forgive them.

Then the day before school starts again, and I am dreading going back, I clear my mind and look up. I marvel at my surroundings changing from different shades of green, to shades of browns, oranges and yellow, while my hand is resting on the fallen tree I am sitting on.

I feel indentations under my fingers on the tree trunk. Crouching down, I peer at the faint scratching, but can only make out the outlines of a heart. At that very moment, a beam of sun breaks through the top of the trees, shining down on me. As the light glows over me, amazingly a sense of acceptance washes through me, and I can actually feel the warmth move from my head through to my toes. It suddenly feels as if everything will be okay, and I will be all right.