The World Around Me Moves

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
I stand still and the world around me moves. But I am not scared.

Submitted: March 15, 2009

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Submitted: March 15, 2009

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I stand still and the world around me moves.

It’s like a piercing force that catches me off guard, trembles my feet on their ground, lets my hands shake in sheer anxiousness. But I am not scared.

Yes, my eyes see the world tolling around me, people moving in an incredible rush, forgetting the sense of ease these days. People always hurry.

I refuse to believe I am a victim of life. It might be true that I don’t have the best childhood a teenager could have, but things are never perfect.

Things can be perfect from someone’s point of view. Different standards, morals, opinions…different perfections. I can recall the days where I’d lock myself in my room and feel like no one reaches out for me. People either don’t get me, or I don’t get the people I love. I hate not knowing what’s on their mind.

But in my eyes, my life was still perfect.

I often wonder if I’d be truly happy if my parents didn’t separate. My mother is a very active person, allows the room to just light up whenever she’s entering. My father, however, is simply calm and very patient. They balanced each other out just perfect.

But still, it went wrong. It went wrong, but still horribly right. My mother is now the proud mother of two little girls, whilst married to an incredible husband, with a great sense of humour, and just the right personality.

My father had a little more trouble. I lost count on how many girlfriends I’ve met. But fortunately, he’s now married. His wife just had a little boy. And this time, I am old enough to get he’s my little (half) brother. I look back on how things went between these two and maybe it’s just the way it’s supposed to be.

My parents divorced two years after I’ve inhaled my first breath on this earth, which caused me to be sent to a foster family.

And so I met her. She was going to be my sister, and I was going to be the little one. I always looked up to her, because she was two years older than me, and plus, bigger.

But I’ve grown. She’s not.

I am taller than her. Physically, I can now literally look down on her. But she’s not intimidated. She’s not intimidated when I yell at her, threaten to throw a punch. She’s way calmer than I am.

I am a mess. Like a row of dominos. One little nudge, is what it takes for me to crash over. She knows just the right ways to manipulate me, intimidate me to hurt her. I can attempt.

If it weren’t for the last string of sanity I can desperately hold on to. I am strong enough, not to let go.

But I am not scared. Things happen, accidents occur, but I will accept the toll that time takes on me. As seconds tick by and minutes pass, I count down to zero hour.

On zero hour, I will take a deep breath and merge myself back in life.

But occasionally, I stop moving, force my feet to stand on steady ground.

So, once again, I look around and the world still moves.


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