Made of Glass: A young Person’s Short Story
One of our young people in our South West region has written a heartfelt short story about her time in school, which has provided a real insight into her feelings and her transition to a new school.
She was happy for us to share it anonymously.
Made of Glass
Chapter 1
I am sat on my own again. I thought secondary school was meant to be fun? The same laughs, same fingers pointing. At me. This is the reflection of a mirror broken years ago. Every break, every shatter the mirror multiplies but never breaks. The unbuilt anger sears my skin as my mind casts all the mistakes and regrets. I look around and notice the smiles. The unfazed and unscarred smiles. Weird glances are casted my way and I feel that numb feeling spread through my chest.
New year, new me right? I mean the start of Year 10 and I sit alone with mascara and lip-gloss on hoping someone will talk to me. They never do. I open my phone. No new messages. I sigh but keep that smile plastered on my face. A girl. A new friend? We talk. She’s nice. I feel the candle start to melt, oh no. There it goes wax over wax until it’s all spilt and a new cast is formed. The girl’s face twists and contorts to reveal an empty reflection. Her face opens up and she spreads her lies and more people shift away from me. I want to shout but my tongue has sealed in my mouth. Why can’t I be loved? She spits her venom and leaves me all alone. Everyday repeats the same. She spits more words and the makeup gets thicker, clothes get baggier and hair gets shorter. I can feel the fuse about to snap so I drown it in lighter fluid. I cry and beg till I am shifted to a new school. A new reality.
Chapter 2
I am liked. I sit at tables full of people but the hollow feeling remains. The poison of my mother’s voice creates a wave of anger and resentment radiates off my bones. People talk to me but don’t want to know me. The fuse is short and constantly drowned but the mind never shuts down. The constant flow of toxicity and despair suffocates you from the inside. Another school year comes to a close but the events of a childhood misplaced never leaves and constantly reminds you of all the regrets. Time doesn’t heal, your mind does. Cut the fuse, freeze the wax.
The End
Moral of the story: trauma doesn’t go away, it makes you who you are.