Wild Thing.

Sometimes through all those bitchings, judgements, criticism, looks and never ending shit talking, it's good to get slapped in the face with what the reality is.

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2. My Asteroid

In the busy schedule of the Universe, where the asteroids shooting around in the abyss of space, like the corks popping off champagne bottles, crash against the dark side of the moon, gazing down onto the blue sphere that is our earth, holding approximately seven billion people, seven billion stories, functioning like bees in a hive, worshipping pieces of paper, I was born in October.

That’s where my Chapter One started. Although, some may argue, Chapter One started somewhere around the end of January.

Of course, I don’t remember much from when I was born. I know I was premature by about two weeks and I am a libra, if you like to believe in astrology. I always found it interesting.

I’m not going to ramble on about my life story and go into detail about how freaking adorable I was. However, the story I want to tell, is about the one that drove me to get closer to the acknowledgments part of my book. Maybe then people will get it.

 

I touched on the dark side of the moon earlier. Let’s recap on some context and facts. The terrain of the far side of the moon, that we can never see completely, at night, is covered with impact craters due to asteroids. The moon’s gravitational field attracts asteroids heading for earth so they end up crashing into the moon’s surface instead of ours, which some debate is why our planet is able to hold life.

 

Take this acquired information and apply it to us, as a society. There are a lot of people who must take hits (physically, mentally, verbally) and hide this part of them. Like the moon, even in the dark times, they need to shine and appear normal.

 

Amelia, you were my asteroids. You’re probably wondering, who’s this Amelia girl? She knows.

Tell me, since you loved space so much, what does the sun, the moon and the truth have in common? I’ll tell you – they all eventually have to come out from hiding. So here’s me uncovering the truth, I know you knew. You walked on thin thin ice. Except, for you, below the ice was a shallow warm pool. You were loved so much and I forgave you one too many times. Especially for a girl, who tried so hard to shut out the world and, at the same time, lure people in. To me, you were fire and ice; some days, your personality was blazing with energy, other days, it was frozen and still and cold with words.

 

Unlike some friendship stories, we didn’t instantly click. We gradually became best friends and it was an amazing experience to pass notes to each other when we should have been working and stay up until six am talking about philosophical theories and crazy ideas. But we were ignorant. Correction…I was ignorant.

I didn’t know it then but you controlled me. We were like unidentical twins and you were always the better half.

 

“Amelia, there’s this really good book. Everyone’s reading it.” I was so excited. Imagine this little eleven year old, sharing her love for this book, only to be…crushed.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” She responded.

“It’s called Divergent.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of it so it can’t be that good. I’ve read the most books in our whole class.”

Do you remember that?

 

How about the first time I began to feel more confident in myself, less insecure. It was the first day of school that I decided to let my hair out from the high tight ponytail I always put it in.

I felt so much more brave and confident in my approaches to life much like Tris Prior. I remember a few people complimenting me. And you didn’t like that.

“My hair keeps going in my face.” I joked around, tucking it behind my ear.

“Tie it up then!” You said to me. You had so much rage in your voice, it was more of an order. But it was also the first time I didn’t do what you say. And that pissed you off more.

 

There was a girl, Sara, who we can all agree was a bitch. But what she used to spread was usually true. She would always shame me for listening to you and for letting you get in my head and control me like a puppet. I defended you, Amelia.

When you got your first boyfriend in secondary school, you hung out with him all the time. It’s like we didn’t exist. I didn’t mind, though, because I wanted you to live your life the way you wanted to. However, Sara came up to me and said to me, “You’re not her favourite anymore? You’re like 9th on her closest friends list.” Although, at the time, that wasn’t true, did Sara know what was going to happen?

 

I think we can confirm that we are no longer best friends. But back then, it was just the raindrops before the flood.

You started shutting out everyone, even me. I stuck by your side. I helped you through it all and then, when it was my ‘turn’ to feel trapped in my own hot air balloon, you couldn’t even stand by me. You just took the chance to blow it all up and make it seem like you were hurting more. Say I stubbed my toe one day, the next day, you would claim to have broken your foot. That’s just how it worked. On and on. For ages.

 

One day, I decided to make a diary. Not like this one. Just a journal to recap on my day. I did, occasionally, throw in a few thoughts and emotions, but it wasn’t too personal. You were inspired by this, so you made a diary too. But, your diary was more emotions than a recap. And that’s fine. But you made me read it. All the time. You wanted me to read about how you felt jealous towards a girl, who recently got asked out. You wanted me to read about your hard hard life, because you were so sure you were the only one hurting, the only one with troubles and family issues. You used me and you were thirsty for attention.

And I didn’t tell anyone.

 

Let me show you an example of how a conversation went:

“Amelia, I need to tell you something.” This lead to paragraphs and paragraphs of me telling you from the very beginning to that very moment of everything and how I felt.

You would reply, “I know exactly how you feel! I always feel like that, sometimes I…”

That’s not how friendship works and it sure as hell is not how helping someone cope with problems works. Coping with suicide.

I said I wanted to kill myself to you, so you told the world you wanted to kill yourself.

 

Then one day, a day we were supposed to be doing a project, you texted me:

“I’m not feeling good today, mentally.”

And normally, I would have helped. I would’ve talked to her and comforted her. But this day, I decided no.

“Okay. But just a tip, feeling sorry for yourself all the time isn’t going to help.” I know it wasn’t nice of me to say, but I felt you needed a slap in the face. And you hated me for telling you the truth.

Maybe you’re thinking I was a bitch, maybe you’re applauding me, but I apologized after. All this anger built up and I was cold towards her, to you, Amelia. So I apologized and I talked about myself like I was shit to make you feel better.

 

And Amelia, you did make me feel like shit.

 

You were the weather to me. A cloud, lost. You were sometimes the sunshine and I would feel guilty for feeling uncomfortable, grey and scared around you. And then others days you were thunder, triggering me to become the lightning, wanting to scream at you, put you in your place.

 

Everybody else gave up on you. They all said you were having mood swings, and again, I defended you. What did you do for me, huh? You had the chance to save me. A chance to change a lot.

 

It’s a life lesson for people reading. If someone came to you with a bleeding arm, would you just show that person a scar you have of a time you had an injury?

It’s the same with mental health.

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