Just Like Me -English 2 Short Story project.

Just Like Me (TW)

Possible TW⚠️⚠️ mention of substance abuse and physical abuse. Please don't read if you think that it will trigger you❤️❤️
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"You're just like Garret!"

"Just like Garret." My mind taunts me.

Those painful words reverberate inside of my skull, bringing images from my fight with my mother earlier. I feel like my head is going to explode.

I force my eyes open. I trace the painting on Mac's ceiling with my eyes hoping to substitute the colorful, curly paint strokes in for the images of holes in the walls and broken glass.

I've been staring at this ceiling for god only knows how long, and I haven't accomplished anything. I'm not sure what I expected myself to accomplish while staring at the ceiling and mulling over my current options. My mind is more cluttered than ever with the possibilities of what might happen when or if I go home, what might happen if I confront my mother, what happens if I am what she says I am.

"Maybe she's right." I whisper. And if she is right then maybe I should do what he did. Maybe I should leave.

"You can't do that, idiot. You aren't eighteen like he was."

Oh my god, I'm talking to myself. I shake my head and rub my eyes. I must be really tired if I'm talking to myself. Oh well, speaking my problems makes them easier to solve. It makes them feel more real.

"She can't be right." I remind myself. "I do my work, I get good grades, I go to school, I act as a mom to my sisters, I'm careful about what I say and do, I don't put detrimental things like tobacco and nicotine in my body, and I don't drink." A painful lump fills my throat while I'm listing the reasons why I'm not as bad as my brother. I need to keep going because it still feels fake. It feels like I'm deceiving myself.

"I am just as bad as him," A hot tear rolls
into my hair, "because I stopped taking care of myself, my room got messy, I took pills to feel in control."

"No!" I whisper-yell.

"Deep breaths." I can't wake Aniah or Mac.

    Breathe in.

    One.

    Two.

    Three.

    Breathe out.

    One.

    Two.

   Three.

"Better. I'm not like him. I'm me." My hands tighten into fists in my hair. "I stopped. I stopped all of that. Now I'm better. I stopped."

"I."

"Am."

"Me."

Deep breaths. "Don't let her get to you." I'm careful to maintain the breathing pattern that Mrs. Harrison had taught me.

"It's not fair for her to compare me to him. I try. He didn't. Though I don't blame him for giving up. She shouldn't compare me to him! I throw the blanket off of me and crawl out of the make-shift bed that Aniah had constructed for me.