Red

I love the color red. It deceives everyone, it turns something from good to bad in a split second. Red, hmmm sounds to abrupt, too sharp on my tongue for it to be perceived as anything remotely good. Red, rhymes with dead, which proves my point. The color red is a lie, there is nothing happy or lovey dovey about it. in fact if there was one single word in the world that would describe me ,it would be red.

1-Halo

 12/05/2014

 

Dear Diary,

 

I'm Halo James. I am 17 years old and my life sucks.

 

Shit, whoever said writing a journal about emotions is meant to be good for your soul is a utter moron. I rip out the first page in my new journal and aim towards my trash can in the far corner, taking my time i lift my arm and close my left eye trying to get a perfect target, just as I was about to take my winning shot I noticed my hand started to tremble. Shit I need to try and stop that. I lower my hand, and the frustration seeps in yet again, then the disappointment in myself. 

 

"Hallie, come downstairs, dinner is ready." My mom bellows at the top of her lungs, her melodic voice booming around the entire house. I swear she must think I cant hear her,either that or she is auditioning for the x factor ,but I know she does it on purpose. Ugh! Honestly, mothers and their nicknames,I absolutely hate it when my mom calls me Hallie,it makes me sound like a elephant, although I have nothing against the animals, I always feel frumpy with that name, luckily she doesn't call me that in public places I would die.

 

Your already dead my self consciousness whispers to me, pushing me back to the past. Ella. My eyes shut tightly together, trying to hold back the tears trying to get out from behind my lids. No I would not cry, not again.

 

"Halo James, get down here and put some food in you!" I jump, startled by my mothers voice, and walk to my bedroom door.

 

i took a deep breathe and exhaled quietly, my mother had very good hearing and the slightest indication that i was going into the same state I was when Ella died, she would send me off to a mental hospital. I'm not proud of how I behaved, I could use the excuse that I was mourning the loss of my best friend but I knew that wasn't the truth. I'll admit I got really angry last year and toward the end of year 11, my fInal year in high school, I had done everything and anything to get rid of the gut wrenching pain, from cutting myself to breaking things in front of my classmates-which resulted in me getting sent to the police station as somehow, amidst all the fury I was unleashing, I broke someone's hand and they couldn't write for at least 4 months, I regretted all of my actions though, one of which ended with me being suspended, but luckily I managed to sit my exams, as the headteacher had a last minute change of heart, although I knew it was more to do with my mom bribing him. Oh well, that is in the past now.

 

Despite my hand  having a mind of its own,I aim toward the bin anyway, and obviously miss. Damn, I fucking wish this wouldn't happen to me. Better luck next time, I think to myself. I know I'll keep trying to throw paper because of the amount of times I will be trying to think of something to write in my journal, and I'll keep tearing the pages out becauseit will most likely be shit, to be honest it is a waste of time, but according to my therapist, Dr Kate, she thinks writing will "heal me."

 

I am completely healed. Okay that is a lie, but I hate therapy, I don't need it really, but my mom forces me to go, so I return the kind favour by not responding to Dr Kate at all. Sure my mom gets pissed off, but she wasn't there when my best friend died, she wasn't holding her in her arms screaming for help, and no one came, She didn't understand how even though we were friend , when she died it was like I had died with her. I know everyone thinks that they understand, but they don't. Period.

2-The Talk

 I head straight into the kitchen whilst mumbling a incoherent hi to my mom. She just sits there, fidgeting. I can officially say something has happened as her face resembles a constipated donkey. She just avoids contact with me whilst I continue to eye her suspiciously. Her hands are in her lap and I know for a fact she's nervous because I can hear the scrunching of the paper napkin in her lap.

 

"Um....Mom are you okay?" I question, putting on my serios face,, but inside I am shitting myself, gosh her face,

 

My mom scrunched up her face and runs a hand through her hair. Only then do I realise the greying hair, the crow feet around her eyes and the slight wrinkles on her forehead. My mood just took a complete 360 and instantly, I pushed my chair out from the able and moved it closer to my mothers chair on the opposite side. Both our meals probable cold by now,and I had an uneasy feeling, as if something bad was about to happen.

 

I smiled reassuringly at my mother, I swear sometimes it was like looking straight into a mirror. My mother was beautiful, she was slender and reached a height of around 5'7, and had long coppery hair which reached her waist, paired with the most beautiful brown eyes she was perfect to me. Myself on the other hand was quite a bit shorter at 5'2 and again similarly with my mother, I had inherited her long copper locks, however I did not share her eyes, mine were a pair of dark green eyes which I hated , my mother would constantly tell me that they were like emeralds, but to me they seemed out of place, and muddy.

 

My mother inhaled deeply through her nose, and blurted it straight out to me.

 

"Your father rang today." She whispers, her voice the only true evidence that she felt broken, the rest of her felt ridged, as if she was willing herself not to break down in front of me, but I knew her well enough to see her facade cracking.

 

My father, a unknown man who was literally from the day I was born now existent in my life. According to what my mom told me, they were together for almost 5 years until she fell pregnant with me that is, for the 9 months in until my birth, my father doted on her, and spoilt her rotten. It was only the night that I was born, he held me for a minute before breaking down, whispering to her  she has my eyes. That was the last time my mother saw him.

 

"Mom, it's okay he's not here, he didn't bring me up, you did mom, I love you okay, don't forget that, I know I don't show it much what with Ella..." I carried on but I ight have well been talking to a brick wall.

 

"He wants you to move to America and stay with him,I think it would be better for both of us Hallie." She whispers gain her eyes downcast, ashamed with herself for admitting that.

 

"What the fuck? You are not serious are you? Fuck sake!" I stood out of my chair and willed myself not to throw anything, and I headed straight up to my room, anger rolling off me in huge torrential waves.

 

So this was it. No decision was needed, she just gave in like that. My mom. The stubborn stong willed women who was my mom and dad, who was there for 17 years of my life. Rejection stung like a bitch. I had to face reality, I was messed up, maybe my mom had realised just how bad now. And that dickhead "father" of mine must have put some shit into her head to make her give in that easily. I could imagine him sweet talking my mom, about mental health facilities, high schools over there being stricter better. Her didn't know shit.

 

i screamed out loud, and cursed, repeatedly as I threw things down the stairs. My books rolled down first, then my phone, and after that everything just blurred. My hands where shaking uncontrollably, as I went to throw the final thing, the little black journal, which I tossed and then I paused. My mothers sad gaze met mine, there. Here I was in all my glory, a freakshow and  my mother had the front seat. Lucky her.

 

 

I would get through this, I told myself, as I walked down the stairs to face my mother. Finality hung over me like a curtain, separating us, and for once I felt like maybe she was right, I did need a new start, but not with him, it wasn't right at all, I didn't deserve this. I know I put my mom through hell but surely I wasn't that bad.

 

“So when do I leave?” I asked abruptly. I don't care, she doesn't care about me so I'm not bothered anymore, another rejection, but hey I was used to it by now.

 

“Oh um…. Around seven tomorrow, in the morning.” After she gets that little bit of information out, her posture slouches, and I almost reach out to her, almost but then I remember my hands shaking but also that feeling of anger coming back, why should I feel guilty? She is dumping me not the other way around.

“okay I'll see you tomorrow, I'm gonna go up to pack and I'll be ready at 5am to go to the airport.” I say numbly as I stumble up the stairs, silently gasping for air as I clutch onto the stair rail for dear life.

“goodnight,Halo” she says gently. I don't turn back because I knew if I did, I would see two black trails of sadness running down her face.

Once I got into my room I exhaled, and nearly puked up at the same time. I would meet my father tomorrow night after the flight had landed. I really didn't know how I felt at all. I went to reach for the journal, but realised I had thrown it down the stairs along with other irrelevant stuff. My ego was too big to go downstairs after being hurt that much, rejection still remained on me, like a stench I couldn't get rid of. Oh well, I thought to myself, I won't need it anyway, I'll go to America and begin again, without the past haunting me, however difficult that may be I was willing to try and forget. Forget everything in this damn country that reminded me of my past.

Tomorrow would be my present, and today was the last of my past, I had had enough.

 

 

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.01.2015

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This is a new book which is dedicated to my friends and family.