Saving Grace

Temporary

Chapter Six

10/15

06:17

I should be getting ready for school. But since I have first hour off, why should I bother? I don't have to be to school until like ten. I mean, sure I have to drive my brother. But other than that? Nope.

Well, yesterday passed slowly. It's hard to carpe diem the shit out of every day when you don't have people to do it with. It's times like this that I wish my life was like a novel. I wish that I could just go anywhere with my friends and do anything. I wish I didn't have an overbearing family.

Wait. That's a lie.

See, my family didn't care what I did when I was in the seventh grade and it led to a shit ton of problems. I guess I just wish they would back off a bit. I want more freedom than I have. Because I feel like I have too many responsibilities. Like going to school for both my mom and I. It's hard and stressful and I feel like I don't have time for myself.

Sorry. I'm complaining too much. I guess I just forget to be positive. It doesn't come naturally to me.

I'm going to get ready for school now. I'm just not rebellious enough to say "fuck it" yet.

10/16

01:34

The flashbacks are back and I can't really breathe. It's like there's a weight sitting on my chest and it's slowly crushing me. It's times like this that I want to kill myself.

I know that I shouldn't think like that and that the pain is only temporary. But I've been living with this pain for as long as I can remember and there doesn't seem to be an end to it. The only way I think I can make it stop is by killing myself. Or giving myself a lobotomy. Which is the same thing.

I just want to feel like myself again. But honestly, I don't even know if I know what feeling like myself is anymore.

10/20

00:21

Today would've been his eighteenth birthday. I should be on the phone with him right now. I should be singing and laughing and we should be talking way into the night. But he's dead.

He's dead and when he died, a part of me died with him.

I guess that's the thing about loving people. When you really love them, you give a part of yourself to them. And in return, they're supposed to give a part of themselves back. But I feel like I love harder than other people and like I give them chunks while I only get slivers.

But he was different. I would've given him my whole heart if he'd asked. I would've crossed oceans and fought monsters. And all I have to remember him by are a few letters, two pictures on my iPod, and some messages.

And he's dead.

Cancer took him from me. It ripped him away. And I wish it had been me. I wish he was still alive because he was a much better person than me.

It should've been me.

10/21

12:42

I am eating mac & cheese from my grandma. But it no longer tastes as good as it did. And I can't tell if the mac & cheese has changed or if I have changed.

10/21

22:43

It's already nearing the end of the second month and I have wasted my time. However, I have taken pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. But, like my trip to the bookstore with Leo, the pictures are something that I'm going to keep to myself. At least, some of them. Some of them I will share. I will let you all look at them. But only the ones I choose.

It's weird. You guys are seeing only part of me. I guess this is the realest part there is since I don't have to lie. But you don't get to see how pretty my masks are. Instead, you get to see the ugly truth.

10/22

16:17

I went in to Mr. Wesley's room after school today. I lied and told him that my brother was getting help from a teacher and that I didn't want to wait in the car for him. It was only half true.

Mr. Wesley smiled and said okay, but we didn't talk much because he was busy grading his algebra quizzes. It's funny. Mr. Wesley refuses to believe that I didn't really learn algebra.

Here's how that conversation went:

"You know, Mr. Wesley, I never really learned how to do that stuff," I had said, gesturing to the board. This caught his attention.

"What do you mean? You're in pre-calculus. How could you have gotten this far without really learning that?"

"It's simple; I bullshit my way through it."

"I don't believe that. You had to have learned this. Maybe you just don't remember it."

"No, Mr. Wesley. I have a great memory. And I never learned this. Probably because I was too busy doodling and the teacher was awful."

"You can't blame the teacher for you not paying attention. It isn't their fault you weren't a good student."

"Well, it kind of was. If they had been more interesting, I would've been more inclined to pay attention..."

"Fine, Grace..."

He gave up. I think it's because we are both just too stubborn for our own good and he knew that we could have this argument for a long time. And he was busy and didn't have time.

One day, I want to ask to sit in on a lesson. That way I can actually learn a bit of algebra. But I'm scared that he'll say no. And I hate rejection.

10/23

02:56

I am, like always, supposed to be doing homework. But I can't focus. I have too much going on in my head. So I think that once I'm done explaining my thoughts, I'll go for a walk.

Don't worry. My neighborhood isn't dangerous. At least, not really. I mean, sure there have been a few drug busts and a few people have been shot. But it's really mild compared to other parts.

And I guess that's what I'm thinking about. Comparisons.

Why do we always compare sadnesses and stories and problems? Why can't we accept the fact that sometimes we are sad and sometimes other people are sad too? Is there some law I don't know that says people can't be sad at once?

I used to think like that. I still do. I still compare my hardships to others and I tell myself that I don't have a right to be sad because other people have it worse. But I'm starting to realize something.

Someone else's sadness doesn't negate your own.