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The World War that Caused me to become

a Freak in a Mental Institution

by Elaine Bradford

 

    The teenage years of girls’ lives are always the hardest. The fighting, the yelling, trying to outdo each other, the boys, and the friends- it all went on in every teenage girl’s life. I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. I was no exception. I was a regular teenage girl trying to make it through middle school, and fend my way through high school, too. I had all of the same problems. Only, I had more to deal with. At home, my mom was losing her job, and my dad died when I was only three, so there was going to be no income, my grandma was sick, and on her death bed, and my sister had been in a horrible car crash, and was hospitalized. We were having some major money problems- Mom had to support three kids, care for Grandma, Clara, my sister’s hospital bills, and pay for daily necessities, too. And now that my mom was losing her job, we had to come up with the money from somewhere else. 

    My seventh grade year began it all. I was thirteen, and I thought I knew everything. I was always right, and everyone else was always wrong. I was in the popular crowd, yet I didn’t feel like I fit in there, but I stayed with them because we all acted the same, and it gave me a sense of security. I treated people like they were the scum from pond water, yet, I knew deep down that they were just the same as everyone else was, no different. I just didn’t want to admit it. So I kept on treating others horrible. This was also the year that Grandma Caroline, my mom’s mom, had become ill. My sister, Clara, was in high school, and I was always hearing all sorts of horror stories from what went on in that building, and I was terrified, but I lived my life as if everything was fine. Clara was a freshman, and was terrified of high school, herself, but didn’t like to show it- she was the tough kind of girl, and I looked up to her for that. 

    I remember clearly when I was a little girl, and boys were some of the most icky creatures on Earth, and they all had cooties. This year, that changed, too. I started liking boys, and I thought the Earth revolved around them. My friends started going through this stage, too. This is what started the war that ended my life inside my own little world.  

    My eighth grade year, went by so fast. I remember having to go to school, but it all went by in a blur, and suddenly, I was graduating from eighth grade. That summer, Grandma Caroline became so ill that she couldn’t take care of herself, and she had to move in with us. This, I didn’t mind, because Grandma Caroline was the coolest person I ever knew, besides my sister. She always played games with me, read to me, talked to me about anything and everything, and took me places, like shopping. I had no idea that she couldn’t even play board games with me anymore, so I was bummed out most of the summer. My sister took driver’s ed. that year, and my brother, Matt, went off to college. Clara would now be a personal chauffeur to my friends, and me because she had her license by the end of the summer. 

    My freshman year wasn’t as bad as Clara had made it out to be, except that my friends were starting to become typical high school girls, and I was a little hesitant to follow them, but I did, anyway. When my friends started doing drugs, so did I. Maybe just to fit in? When my friends started going to parties, and drinking, so did I. Then, Zakkary came along. All of the girls in my group liked Zak, and he was all they ever talked about. They all dreamed about him asking them to homecoming, prom, on dates, and parties, but he never did ask them. He asked me. It was so unexpected! I was minding my business one day, eating lunch with my group of “friends”, and Zak came up to us. The girls at my table all became quiet, and watched his every move in awe, except for me. I just looked at him like “What do you need?”. He finally said, “Hey, Kristin! I was, uh, wondering… would you like to go with me this Saturday to dinner and then a movie or something, and if it goes well, go with me to prom, too?”  

    I sat there dumbfounded. When I finally realized that he was talking to me, I said yes without a second thought. All of the girls glared at me. They started yelling at me, and throwing stuff at me, and finally got up and walked away. The next few weeks would be bad enough.  

    Zak and I went on our date, and we decided that we’d go to prom together. Rumors started spreading around school about Zak and I, and it was starting to give me a bad reputation. They were only rumors, though, but I couldn’t convince the others that they were, because of my “friends” I hung around. My mom lost her job, and Clara wrecked her car on her way home from work one night, and was hospitalized with a concussion. Grandma died this week, and I had to speak at her funeral. My whole life was falling apart.  

    Zak saw how much pain I was in, and even tried to help me for a few weeks, but after a while, he said that I was just too much of a burden, so he dumped me. This only added to my pain, so I got into heavier drugs, more drinking, and now, I was starting to purposely hurt myself, believing that if I inflicted physical pain, my emotional pain would leave through those wounds. It never did. It only caused days of hospitalization, and abandonment. My mom kicked me out of the house, my brother wouldn’t speak to me, and Clara had died from her accident, and Mom never told me. I didn’t have any friends, because I was considered a freak, and no one wanted to be around me. I was left to find places for myself to stay.  

    So the story ends. I finally found the courage to check myself into a mental institution, and this is where I’m writing this from. I’m hoping that somewhere out there, that some teenage girl reading this will see that fights between your friends really aren’t the end of the world, and they aren’t world wars, either. But to me, mine was- it ended my world of sanity, so here I sit, surrounded by other mental patients, my new friends. Friends that I earned. And I fit in with these people. I did this to myself. I am truly a freak, and it’s my fault. I made that choice to ruin my life, and ended up with a new life smelling like a hospital, and filled with other freaks and mental cases just like me. I don’t question whether I fit in here or not, because I know I do. I’m not proud of it, so I want you to know that no matter how hard your life seems, don’t give up. You just may end up being labeled a freak in a mental institution.