Hawthorne Heights [Editing]

thirteen [edited]

"Dad, I think that you need to see a therapist or someone who can help you out," Miracle urged. "I don't like seeing you like this."

Her dad rolled over in bed with a five o'clock shadow sprouting upon his lower face. Brown alcohol stained his white beater, causing for Miracle's stomach to lurch violently.

He assured her, "I don't need to see no shrink, Mir. All they want is money, they can't tell me nothin' that I can't tell myself."

"Then why won't you stop drinking? I have a dance recital coming up soon and I don't want my dad showing up smelling like alcohol and funk," she complained.

Growing up, both of her parents always showed up for any little event that their daughter participated in. They wholeheartedly showered Miracle with love and attention since the moment her mother brought her into the world. Miracle slowed down on the science fairs, beauty pageants, and never took home the parent-teacher conference form after her mom died. She realized that he wasn't in his right frame of mind to show up in public with the weight of his wife's death bearing down on his shoulders.
He had chronic depression; the long-term type which breeds hopeless thoughts and insomnia.

She reassured, "The appointments are down by the church near Lee's and they're completely free!"

"Miracle." he rolled over so that she was facing his back. "I'm not letting a white person mess around in my head. I just need to start back getting active."

"Alright."

   Milo feigned interest while watching the movie that he hadn't had the desire to watch.
   Khari didn't write in his journal that day. He was tired of writing down all of the things wrong with his life because then they'd be a permanent reminder of his sadness. At first, when he got out of the detention center, he didn't want to write in the journal at all. He was too afraid that his mom would find it and say that his feelings weren't valid or real.
   The one thing he hated with everything in him was when people thought that they had the power to validate his emotions and identity without knowing him.
   Writing in the journal became a part of his daily routine that made him wonder if his identity would remain the same if his sadness and anger weren't obsessed with him.