By Gina Hartley

"As I wait for my mum to pick me up, I catch a glimpse of my distorted reflection in the cars that drive past. My medium length hair covers most of my face and the part of my face you can see, looks sad. I give the reflection of me a half-hearted smile, but even distorted, it looks empty; fake. I spot mum’s car pulling up beside me, and I try to force my smile wider and more genuinely happy to see her, as I give a small wave. She smiles and waves back, seemingly unaware of how I feel like I could fall apart at any given moment. I make my way to the car.

“How was work?” She asks me in the same happy tone she always does,
“It was good,” I say neutrally. Translation: It’s never good.
“What did you have to do this time?”
“Just deal with customer service, you know, in case they don’t like a product and want to return it,” Translation: The people I have to deal with are so rude; they tease me and treat me like I’m a child.
“This sounds good,”
“It was,” Translation: It wasn’t.
“I’m really glad you’ve gotten that job, I’m so proud of you!”
“Thanks mum,” Translation: I hate it and I want to quit.
“How was school today?”
“It was alright,” Translation: Alright is an understatement.
“Do you have any assignments due soon?”
“Yes, I’ll need to do that when I get home,” Translation: I don’t even know when to start. 
Mum pulls into the driveway and I make my way up to the house. Before I enter the front door, I turn around and catch her talking to our elderly neighbour. She’s smiling and gesturing in my direction and I know she’s talking about how I’m supposedly doing well in school and how I’m the perfect daughter. The thought makes me sadder than I realise as I blink back tears. I’m living in a world where my mother doesn’t even know who I am, or what I’ve done, or how much I hate myself for it. I walk into the house trying to banish that looming thought from my head as I close the door behind me.

That night, as I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, I feel my eyes watering up. I begin to question my existence, as I do almost every night. I make up scenarios in my head that both frighten and intrigue me. What would it be like if I was gone? No one would really remember me would they? The demons inside me already know the answer, and they chant it softly, dangling my life like a thread they believe I’m willing to chop. Taunting me with my life and the worst part is sometimes, I think I believe them. By now I’m really crying as giant sobs wrack my body. To think my parents are sound asleep under the same roof. Never knowing, and never going to find out.

The next day at school, I’m sitting down with my group, eating lunch. They all seem happy, smiling and blissfully unaware. I stare into space feeling more disconnected from life since, well ever.
“Hey Livy,” my friend Tess says to me, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine seriously,” I say, trying to smile. Translation: Why do you care?
“Are you sure?” She presses on, “You just look kind of sad.”
“Nah, I’m all good, just super tired.” I say faking a laugh. Translation: You wouldn’t understand.
“Livy, I know you well enough to know a fake laugh when I see one, what’s gotten into you lately?”
“Tess, I’m fine can you please just drop the subject?!” I say harshly to my surprise. Translation: Please drop the subject before I start crying, I don’t want to be selfish and make this about me. 
My whole group exchange looks and I sigh. Sometimes I feel like there’s nowhere I really belong, and nowhere that’ll be willing to take me.
“Well just remember Liv, we’re always here for you in thick and thin okay?” My whole group’s nodding in agreement as a wave of confusion goes over me. Why do they care? And that’s when I know the tears started rolling. Tess puts her arm around me and puts my head on her shoulder. As I stain her shirt with my tears, she whispers softly in my ear,
“This too shall pass.”"




I wrote this story as part of an assessment for an Literature unit we were doing. The main themes that we had to incorporate into the story were fighting, family, and friends. I decided to take a different angle on the topic and while I made reference to the family and friends, I tried to make the main focus about the character fighting with herself. I hope to put emphasis on the fact that often there are times in our lives where we may say something and mean the complete opposite. The true meaning that we're trying to express may be, for lack of a more-perfect phrase "lost in translation." And I want anyone reading this who may be going through their own hardships to understand that you. are. not. alone. It's perfectly okay to be feeling that way. There's nothing wrong with you and while I know it may seem like the world is just one big scary place and you're just one tiny person, you are capable of things beyond even your wildest imagination.

Stay strong, and send me an email when things seem almost unbearable, my inbox is always open,
Until next time,
Gina xx
thehartofwriting@gmail.com