The Contorted Optimist (Caution: may be triggering)

There is a girl who wakes up in the morning and looks out her window hopefully, only to see it is yet again another dark overcast day, too chilly and dreary to play. But she smiles, because she knows somewhere this weather is helping where there's a drought, or it's saving someone from too much unwanted heat from the sun. She gets ready for the day ahead of her, smiling at the melancholy faces of friends, family and strangers alike all around her, because who knows who could be in the need of one just about now? She stays inside and gets snacks and bags ready, while her friends go to the car and have fun, cheerfully grinning all the while because she knows it'll take extra work and stress off her mum. Everyone groans at the lateness when everybody is finally situated ready to go to their skating session, but she reminds everyone that they've been later before, and there's plenty of time to have fun still.

She skates behind her friends, and listens to them rant on about their pretty new things, hot boyfriends, dance recitals, and expensive new laptops (when they have barely even used their old ones.) She could barely scrape up enough money for a tablet, but when she did everyone bullied her and told her she shouldn't have blown all her money on that. But she bears it all gracefully, and complements them on their things. After the session, she lets her family have some extra time with their friends while she dries the blades and gets the bags ready.

When she gets home, her life is in an uproar. Her parents are fighting horribly, and she hears her dad threaten to beat up the house with his solid mahogany baseball bat. Her heart drops to the gutters, but she doesn't breakdown. Or stop. She's just encouraged by the obstacle that was put in her path to overcome. She silently ushers her young siblings to the bedrooms and puts a movie on for them, and feeds the Pets. She then goes to help her weeping mother get supper ready, caught in the middle of the argument. Her father shouts at her and abuses her mentally, but she stays silent and prays for the storm to pass over soon. This was one that had been brewing a while. He always said he'd never hurt her or her mother, but she can't help but feel nervous of the knife and gun on her fathers side when he's this angry. He's not himself; his very being seems to take the form of a madman. She tries not to let her mind wander to what his enraged being might be capable of doing. He threatens to start beating up the kitchen if she so much as thinks of calling anyone, let alone the police. She peels potatoes next to her mom, trying to help, but that only annoys the mother; she screams at her and tells her to leave.

The girl runs to the bathroom, still not shedding a tear. She's trying to stay positive, but notices for the first time in quite a while her spirits dropping. She's quivering all over, be it from exhaustion, stress, or pure terror, she doesn't know. She drinks tap water, sits down and tries to regain her composure, only to hear her dad threatening to walk out on the family, perhaps they've gone too far; and her mothers loud wails in response. Now this girl had never felt so low. She looks at herself in the mirror, which she doesn't often venture to do. She sticks an elongated, thin finger into the dimple in her cheek, and studies herself. On the outside she looks like a regular teen for the most part; no one would ever suspect the horrors she silently bears. But it's the eyes. The eyes that perhaps someday one will look into, and wonder. Wonder about her, her feelings, her past. She has wrinkles above them, which most definitely shouldn't be there. Her eyes are icy, an icy blue that she often gets complemented on, but it's not the normal icy. No, now they're an empty Icy. The drear and emptiness taking the place of where childhood mirth should take hold. She sits on the bathroom stool, desolated, hearing the war out in the kitchen rage on. She peers into the trash can next to her, finding that a couple of objects stand out to her more so than the toothbrushes and toilet paper. She sees a beer bottle, and she also sees several used, blunted razors. The wheels spin in her mind. There would be nothing better than to just leave the world for now, but she didn't want to never come back. She's not her normal, alert, cheerful self; she's an entirely different creature, like her father...her normal senses not even kicking in. Maybe, just maybe she could hit her head hard enough to black out for a while? There was a chance of brain damage, but she was willing to take it. She gingerly picks up the bottle, raises her right arm, and smacks it against her head above her temple- once, with all her strength, but it wasnt enough. She didnt have her normal brawn. She hadn't expected to feel such a searing pain, it had resounded with a loud crack, it felt like it too. She let out a whimper, not anticipating the sting. All outside noise or emotion vanished. She had spent many nights talking people out of suicide and cutting, online and in real life. She greatly wishes to see if there is exactly something to those cutting out there, maybe it does help... Her mind spins as her hand shakily reaches for the blade in the can. But she stops herself; what is she thinking? A glimmer of herself comes back, slowly, and just a little bit. But it's enough to help. Those scars aren't going to help her in any way in her life, which she fully intends to live; to live to the fullest, and to live for others. She can't help if she accidentally cut herself too deep, if it's too much; and whatever she did, it wouldn't help her family or parents in any way. It would drag them further apart from each other, and farther down in darkness and despair. She's going to live, and she's going to be there for her brothers, sisters, friends, parents and strangers, no matter how they treat her.

She calmly goes down to her room, her parents still at it. She looks at her small number of Facebook friends, but smiles, thinking about who she'll meet in the future she'll be happy to have among them. She goes on her Wattpad, tumblr and quibblo accounts, to find she has a lot of negative comments on her stories and creations, that she has poured her heart and soul into. She doesn't let that get her down though; she goes on to send anonymous love, and complements everyone else's stories and writing. She talks to her suicidal friends, who are threatening to commit because of reasons incomparably trivial compared to trials she faces- some as small as distress over not being invited to a party. But she treats them with love and care, and doesn't dare speak a word of her own troubles. She helps them get through theirs, extremely happy she's in a position to do so. She'll never know how many lives she's saved through her simply kindness.

Exhausted, she gets ready for bed and tucks her siblings in, feeling oh so glad about how they seem to take comfort and solace in her warm embrace. She silently blows a nearly tearful kiss to the door separating her mum and dad from them, whispering prayers that everything will clear up soon, as she slowly and silently closes the door for the night. When she's safely in her bed, she looks back on her day. She thanks her God for giving her the opportunity to see her friends today, for the wifi connection that provides her with entertainment, and for the angel that stayed her hand from the blade. But most of all, though painful it is, she thanks him for putting these obstacles and trials in her path. Looking back, she never shed a tear that day. She was a positive influence on her parents, who should be the ones doing so for her. She was a resting place for her siblings souls, whose young lives should be left unmarred from such stress she believes, even though she's not much older than the most of them. She earnestly thanks him for the troubles. She knows everything happens for a reason, and that she's only made stronger and a better person because of them. Most of all, she thanks him for the strength to keep going, even though if it be left to her, she had no interest in staying.

She continues with her life, doing her best to be a shining light to the world. And she becomes just that. A pearl among coal. If her parents knew about her life with other people, what she goes through, they might be easier on her. If her friends knew about everything, they probably would be too. But she never, ever tells anyone all her troubles. She would not want to burden them with her own tales of woe, as shes sure they have enough of their own. She has days even worse in the future. But she always looks back on that night, and thanks all that is good for the intervention that kept her being strong.


Now friends. Some of this may not be true, but a lot of it has happened in different forms to a couple of people I know, quite close to me. And while it's not all word for word real, nor happened to one person, I happen to know there are people like that out there. So next time that wonderfully optimistic person asks you how you are, be considerate. Ask them how they are too. You never know what trials may be lying under their eyes. If there were more people like this, the world would be a much, much better place. For everyone. Please, feel free to share this, and keep it in mind.

Have a nice day.