The Tearing Emotion

Reads: 530  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is about me, It's an escape for me, a way to reveal my emotions and how I truly feel.

This is the story of how I fell apart.

It all started with the little things; nagging from my parents mainly, seems petty to see it written down. It really was the little things that started it too, I never had the best temper in the world to say the least, and it was often the tedious things that would set me off. I never voiced it though, I suppose it was out of respect for my parents… or fear; I’m not really sure which it was. Look at that, in just a few sentences I’ve made you judge my parents, they weren’t as bad as what you’re thinking, they always provided, no matter how hard things got, and they were always strong for me. The best thing about my parents? They cared.

The smaller problems at the time didn’t seem to be an issue, it was only when I took a look at them in the bigger picture I saw why I was so stressed, so lonely, so sad. You see, taken one at a time they were insignificant, unworthy of being called a problem, but collaboratively they began to dig away at my patience. My tolerance for even the slightest things declined, I’d have mood swings for almost no valid reason, maybe the mood swings were a slight release when I couldn’t bottle it up any more, who knows? But what I do know is that my anger wasn’t with specific things, it was the fact that majority of my issues I had caused, and I didn’t know how to fix them, it was my inability to do something that melted my emotions into a big mixed puddle.

I didn’t know what to feel or when to feel it, I felt lonely even around all my friends, I felt depressed immediately following a fantastic day, I was afraid of being with myself and my own thoughts, I was in a state of emotional disrepair, and the worst part is that I had the tools to fix it. I had a supportive, caring family coupled with the most understanding friends. The tools were there, but my pride stopped me from using them.

Everybody I knew saw me the same way; confident, care-free, the kind of guy who could take on the world and win; but that guy, he wasn’t real, he was a persona I’d developed to hide my insecurities. The problem with this was I ended up with no clue who I was anymore, was I this lovable and confident geek who I spent so much time being? Or was I a slave to my emotions and my pride just wouldn’t let me show it?

As you might have guessed, my little issues weren’t going to solve themselves, and sure enough they never did. After a while though I began to accept them and plan my life around them, it was bliss; it didn’t last. Enter the first of my bigger problems, possibly the most irrational of problems too; girls.

When I was 12 I heard about a girl, my age, who had lost her virginity to a 16 year old, now of course this spread like wildfire, and this lead to my brilliant idea to say that I too, had lost my virginity. It wouldn’t have taken a genius to tell that I was lying but for some reason, people believed me. Since it had gone down such a storm I decided to roll with it, I can’t lie, I did love the attention I got. But with the attention came trouble, I felt like I had to do stupid things to keep the attention on me, I wanted everybody to know who I was. I began setting things on fire on the school playgrounds, in the lessons, I’d do near enough anything for an extra day or two of that attention I craved so damn much.

Now these stupid things had repercussions of course, perhaps not as bad as they should have been, but then again, I was good at weaselling out of trouble. I got moved around a lot in lessons, and that’s when I met her. I was 14, just starting year 10 in Andrew Marvell College, the class; English Language. I’d been loud and obnoxious as usual and the teacher made me switch seats with someone, at the time, I was pissed. Incredibly so. But the girl I sat next to for the following 2 years was amazing.

She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, she was smart, funny and she was a bit weird. But I liked that, it made her more relatable. I quickly started to get feeling for her, feelings I felt I couldn’t control. Eventually, when I was on the verge of screaming out how much I loved her, I manned up, I told her how I felt in hopes that she felt the same, and then came the disappointment at the end of hopes’ road.

She wasn’t ready for a relationship she said, and I understood that completely, but I also kept hoping for the day when she was ready. For nearly 2 whole years I hoped and confessed my feelings for her, not regularly of course, I wasn’t some kind of creep. And for 2 whole years she knocked me back, slowly crushing me without knowing it.

I suppose my saving grace was an ex of mine asking to meet up, she’d gone through a really rough breakup and said she needed someone she could talk, I definitely wasn’t going to turn her away; not in her state. While we were talking I realised how utterly pathetic I was dwelling over a girl I could never have, and that for two years I had been too dumb to see it.

Just when I was getting past it; getting all of my emotions in check I got some awful news. My only living grandmother had been diagnosed with cervical cancer. It was far more advanced than what I was told too, after months of emotional ups and downs and rigorous chemotherapy and radiotherapy courses my Nan came home, but alongside her she brought some soul crushing news. Her cancer had spread from her cervix into her liver. The doctors where now almost certain it was terminal. The news tore me apart, but my façade of a personality kept my turmoil hidden from my friends and my family.

My biggest hurdle? Watching my mother fall to pieces as we watched my Nan deteriorate. Now we are just hoping for a miracle, perhaps a sudden bout of strength from my Gran so the doctors can try and treat her for the liver cancer. We know she doesn’t have long left to live, I have a feeling that these next few months, as we watch her die, bedbound and in terrible pain, are going to not only be tough, but slow. So slow that time train seems to stop dead in its tracks and the doors won’t open to let us move forward and better our lives. But hey, that’s all in the future now isn’t it? So we’ll see when we get there.






An Emotional short story,
By Fox Arnold

Submitted: October 09, 2015

© Copyright 2022 FoxArnold. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Facebook Comments

Other Content by FoxArnold

Short Story / Other

Miscellaneous / Other