Ones you should remember. | Teen Ink

Ones you should remember.

August 9, 2010
By JessicaBee BRONZE, Bellevue, Washington
JessicaBee BRONZE, Bellevue, Washington
3 articles 1 photo 4 comments

Favorite Quote:
" To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment "


The truth?
You tell me what you want to hear is the truth? Because that always seems to work out
for you right, the truth?
Well here's the truth, I lay awake at night and wish none of this ever happened.
I wish that I could go back to the first single second I was born in that ratty hospital
downtown, and change every single thing about me.
The way i blink an enormous amount in less then ten seconds.
Or maybe even the way I bite the inside of my mouth in general. Not in nerve wracking situations. But just, in general.
The way I scratch of my nail polish the next day I paint it on. Because I get sick of it.
The way I bend my hands backwards to hear the crack sound, and i will continue to do so unless I am satisfied with
the sound of my wrists cracking.
The way I force myself to cry, because once in a while. I get sick of smiling.
The way I think about myself in every little detail.
The way I'm selfish.
The way I'm not happy with anything anymore. The way I sit and think about the things in life I wish I could
change, but something is pulling me back.
The way I have to take care of myself and fail, fail, and fail over and over again.
The way I dropped the cash box and it exploded in front of everyone.
The way he said to me I made a million mistakes one after another.
The way I cried. Alone. In my bathroom.
So today, if you sat and asked me the truth.
Would you honestly want to hear this? Would you want to know that I used to hate looking in the mirror.
So much.
Would you want to know what I scare myself away, into thinking one day, I might, just might lose control.
Would you want to know what there was a time were I hated everyone who came my way.
Because for once. That's the truth.
And now. Present day. As I lay on my old queen sized bed with the smell of smoke and soap,
I realize. I've told a big big lie.
And It's time to face the music. To face the sweet, melancholy music. You can't go back.
And You won't be able to, You will never have a chance to rewind all your mistakes, to snap your fingers
and be in the same old crate with a warm blanket wrapped around you.
Instead, your laying on a bed listening to violent sounds that our generation considers to be music.
Don't get me wrong, I love my music. But I hate that I depend on it for everything,
Especially wanting to go back to the day I was born.
But most of all, Most of all, the only thing I would want to go back to, is the beginning. The beginning of this story.
Mistakes are made every second of the day, whether it is a gramir mistacke or a wrong answer on a test,
maybe something bigger, something greater, but the point is, everyone makes mistake's. We learned that growing up.
It's a simple concept really, you mess up, you do better next time.
But the people are the problem, the kids who indicate your troubled. You're a mess.
And really the only thing you can think, is to get rid of those people. But you're wrong.
Keep them, they are the answers. they are the solution,
The people who stand in your way are the ones you should remember. Because they are the obstacles you have
been able to climb over, So once you reach that one person, that one big tree you just can't seem to get to the top off.
Don't ever stop, dont' wish to go back, don't regret, don't feel shame for making a mistake.
The point of this story is, that I have flaws. We all do. I have made mistakes, big big mistakes, we all have.
But i have been able to get to the end of this story, to tell you that the truth is a big lie.
I don't wish to go back. I don't wish to re-do my mistakes. I wish to let myself and everyone else know,
that you will fail, and fail and fail over and over again.
And you will love every moment of it.


The author's comments:
Midnight over-thinking.. thats all I guess.

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