Ramblings of a Wandering Mind

Just a reflective thought on my 16-year-old life...a true story...

 

               The last time I altered myself just to be like everyone else, it sucked.

    Hardcore.

It was like swallowing a peach pit.

No.

                It was worse.

                Like some dandy old man wandering up to you and putting a brick in your hands and saying, “Eat this, or die.”

                I had to eat the brick.

                Had to. But how? Do I smash it against some surface until it becomes chewable, or just live on the hope that stomach acid will burn the large chunks up when I swallow?

...Is concrete even digestible?

                I guess I would have died, because I have no idea how to eat a brick.

 

                It was just like that. My mind was blocked off; jaded, in every sense of the word. The salty condensation forming in pools by my body crevices. Even in my collar bone. Honestly, it was disgusting. My nails were in all kinds of impossible shapes from being chewed on endlessly for the past five minutes. I had nervously picked off the clumps of cheap mascara hiding between my eyelashes. And all for what?

 I counted the stitching in the leather seat for support. One, two, thr…My mind went right back to worrying.  One of my eyes is smaller than the other. I’ve always known that. F**K. What is that on my leg? Bloody hell. There’s stubble I forgot to shave on my knee. Why did you wear a dress?

I rubbed my clammy legs together to at least make them a flesh-like color. At that moment, they resembled something like fish meat…tinted and weird-looking. Looking at my legs made me think of the mole on my upper left thigh. It wasn’t a particularly large mole. In fact, it, all in all, resembled a freckle. But I was still conscience of its mole-ness. I remember. Dermatologist. Fourth grade. It was officially deemed a mole, to be forever inspected by my mom, all while hoping It Isn’t Cancer.

My eyes flashed up to the windshield. I could almost see my reflection in the glass. I had straightened my nearly black hair to perfection earlier that afternoon, and primped my face like it was my job, all up until when I got the text.

                The Text.

                "Lets chill ;)"

                Okay, don’t act so weirded out by the bolded title that stresses the importance of the upcoming topic. It’s honestly THAT dramatic though. It was The Text. But, before The Text, there came smaller, minute texts, which led up to the eventual sending of The Text. You know…the really AWESOME (stupid) ones that consist of as much slang & abbreviations as possible? Mhmm. But he is a popular boy, and I am a ‘normal’ girl. And I am lame like that.

               And of course 'chilling' followed by a wink face only got me all giddy.

               ((AND...You may have stopped reading a few moments ago until you saw the switch in paragraphs. Most likely, if you are a classy, more than meets-the-eye writer, then you probably though, “Great. Another girl droning on about how great some bloke is”…Nah. Just keep going. Unless you don’t want to. Then you can stop.))

                I hate wearing things around my wrist, so…yeah, no watch in existence. But I was pretty sure that it had been about 8 minutes since I had hopped into the unlocked car. It was a small car, the interior smooth & new smelling, with a few random items crumpled into the corners. I usually slide my feet up on the dashboard, but I feared the marks I may leave.

                And there he was. Coming out of the building, rain falling from the sky onto the pavement. He was walking at a steady pace, toward his car…toward me…who was in his car. In a too-short for school sundress with silky hair and too much make up. Me, shaking and nervous with a sweaty collar bone and a mole on my left leg, and something else I forgot which is a crooked front tooth. But me. Me.

                He opened the door, which allowed me to hear the rain smacking against the ground for a moment. But then it was shut.

                Silence.

                Why was I so nervous? If the chiseled face were replaced by a doughier one, would I feel the same? What was I really looking for here?

                Breathing. Smiling. Keys. Ignition. Clutch. Reverse. Drive.

                Was that me inhaling sharply? I exhaled quietly to end my own confusion.

                Movement. Unbuckling. Walking. Doors. Lights. Off. Sitting. Couch.

                His hands were wrapped around my lower back before I knew it. A million beads of anxiety swept through me like bubbles from a Coca Cola. This wasn’t me.

                Hands. Sliding. Lips. Kissing. Dark.

                What was this?? It was like getting peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth: It’s your own damn fault for eating it, but how the hell do you get past the annoying mass above your tongue? Swallow? Let the enzymes dissolve it? Erg…

                Next thing I knew…I knew nothing. I stopped paying attention. He had me, he was all over me, like print on a newspaper, and now the moon was high in the sky and there was no going home to mama…no going home to your covers or that one dorky stuffed animal that everyone still keeps around. No going home. The only thing I could do was stay. Unraveled, awake, still a nervous wreck…lying next to a body who only knew my body…not my mind. Not my secrets. Not my humor, interests, and quirks. Just some bloke, a normal one at that…nothing too special about him in the intelligence area.

                At that moment I pondered a thought.

                What is humanity doing by wearing shells to prevent us from being noted as weird or undesirable??

                Why is it that “being different” is preached world-wide, yet, we are given unrealistic circumstances to live up to??

                Why did I have the urge to straighten my hair? Why, because, when it’s a curly, natural, mess, it’s UGLY? Why did I have to wear eyeliner, mascara, and a skimpy dress, why did I feel it was necessary?? Is it that, somehow, almond-shaped brown eyes are just too un-special? I have AWESOME complexion, people, AWESOME, creamy as the best vanilla ice cream you will FIND, but yet I lather it in tan bronzer because PALE is just…NOT ACCEPTABLE?

                So I left. He was on the floor. Didn’t speak a word to my face, just my body. I left. I left. I left. I left. Grabbed my things, and left.

                And I went to my friend Henry’s house. Where I could show up in the middle of the night, ask for a gallon of orange slice soda, and he would happily oblige and offer it in a silly cartoon cup. He would give it to me, sit with my in the middle of the road at 3 in the morning, and talk about those little things that you never think about. We’d listen to folk music and play video games, and climb trees and make eggs because we can. We’d take out our contacts and slip on our thick frame glasses because who said glasses are nerdy? We could use words like “ambiguous” and “alas” because we would know what they mean, and not care about the glares we get from the other kids.

I could tell him I still remember the theme song to Pokémon.

I could tell him I still wish on birthday candles.

That I still like getting tucked in at night.

That I write poetry for fun.

That I still read novels.

That I sleep hugging my pillows.

That I cry a lot.

That I still believe in believing in myself.

 

But I can’t. Because I traded everyone like Henry just for a lousy bloke who won’t even remember my name the next day. Who doesn’t care about me, me or my forever rambling, wandering, mind.

Author's Note

I might delete this. Perhaps not. It's not meant to be perfect. :)

Reviews

[Sheffer]

Well, hm, where to begin....

First off, even though the topic itself could be considered cliche, you approached it with easy-to-read stylized writing that caught my eye instantly and dragged me in as well. The description of the events that occurred were filled with personality (which I would think was set in stone due to your statement of it being a true story), and it was very interesting to read.

Also, the message it contains is meaningful and makes me think a bit, since its a topic I've found myself pondering over many-a-time. Of course, being male, I can't necessarily relate to all of what you said, but the story in a whole makes a good emotional impact.

And trust me, this will make me think of any future relationships I may or may not have, and how I will learn from it all.

[Michael of Gilead]

I must confess you do have a good style....and i was about to then write you off as a Paris Hilton wana be...then you got to the point

which only made me think.....so why not Henry?

You are conflicked about him, knowing he would be a better partner yet you refuse him for popularity?

Certainly it is a choice we've all made before....now learn from our collective mistakes

My two cents worth ;)

[Murtuza]

Please do NOT delete this. Being in the same age-bracket as you, I feel really happy that there are others like you who share the same mundane irritations about their 'looks'. Your writing just pulled me in and kept me there until the last word. Great wording, great humour, great morals, great everything.

And I'm glad that you realized that you are a much better individual by being yourself than turning into something that the society deems 'acceptable'. I think we all fall for that trick in the beginning but as we grow, things gradually come into perspective.

I love this write. Oh, and I remember all the theme songs to Pokémon too!

[Zeek4]

Very good job young lady. I loved your sense of humor and insightful understandings of the one track male mind.

[marielondon]

I just re-read this and found again how wonderful it is. Literally I understand everything you are talking about and it really helped me today with what I was going through. Thank you for this piece, and please, please, don't delete it. It's one I'll revisit again and again.

[nicolo]

YOU BETTER WRITE A BOOK! :)

[Sir Robert Robbie Lord ..]

looks is important but apprecaite the engine fix it like the heart your heart that's what
really matters and your not just another brick in the wall you ate the brick
somehow? Now, if you feel wall'd inside oh, well, you have chew'd thru a made
a hole to breathe thru and hollar - help me! let me out it's stifling, trifling in here where are the doors in my little world i can't wait to open and close them
so i can be back on my own again in my car but apprecaite the engine fix it
like the heart your heart that's what really matters, p.s i like the title good title
and that's what's got me to read it so good so far tho' it seem more like prose with
a small poetic feel to it, i like'd it as is near perfect.

[marielondon]

Please don't delete this! It was absolutely wonderful. Everything thing you said you so relatable and real and deals with problems that are relevant. It's truly amazing.

[☯]

I really loved reading this. It's truly an inspiring and compelling story. Throughout the whole thing, I was just reading, the flow of it is smooth, and mysterious. The questions you proposed and thoughts you wrote down are exactly true and thoughtful. I do ask myself the same, if people talk about "being different" all the time, why isn't anyone embracing it? Why do we need artificial paints and line son our faces to look beautiful? Loved it.

[TJ]

Wow Aleyah, you have an awesome writing style! The way you wrote this it really didn't even feel like I was reading it it felt more like I was inside her head while all this was happening! You did a great jon bringing her to life. I like the ending because within is such a great lesson.
Good work

[Julie Beth]

nothings perfect that's life don't delete this is really great this is real not something you can make up and say yeah i wrote this just because this is amazing outstanding job :D