I kept trying to tell myself that everything will be okay, but how could anything be okay when I knew that I was mentally unstable? I shouldn't have lied to MS. Kerrie. Now my mom was expecting me to be "normal" I don't even know what "normal" is! My normal is self harming and not eating. My life is all a lie! Everything about my pathetic life is a joke. I guess I was better off in the crazy house, I really do hate the hospital, but maybe it could have done me some good.
I close my notebook with satisfaction. My story really is coming along great. I get up from the table and walk to the teachers desk.
"Mrs. Newman, will you please read my story and help me edit it."
"Sure honey, just leave it on my desk and I'll look it over."
"Thank you!" I say
I go back to my desk, collect my things, and go home for the day. I run outside to where my dad is waiting for me.
"Hey, how was your day?" asks my dad.
"Good!" I say cheerfully.
"That's good."
On the drive home we stop at the burger joint and my dad gets me a small fry, a medium root beer, and a cheeseburger with no pickles. Which is our normal routine. When we get home, I jump out of the car and hurry inside. I rush upstairs with my food and close the door to my room behind me. I grab a book from off my shelf plop down on my bed and begin eating. The hours just fly right by.
"Sierra! Time to eat!" My mom shouts from downstairs.
"Coming!" I yell.
I head downstairs and join my siblings at the table. I quickly eat my bowl of pasta and head back to my room to read. My room is my safe place, I stay in my own little world, my secret escape. My imagination is the door to my stories. I also love reading because that takes me to worlds where the possibilities are endless.
Soon I drift off to sleep and when I wake up my alarm clock is going off. I lazily roll out of bed and get myself ready for school. Everyday my dad takes me to school and picks me up. It's really nice because everyday on the way to school we have a talk about something and it's a nice way to start the morning.
"Bye dad!" I say as I am getting out of the car.
"Bye Sierra, have a good day, be a leader, not a follower."
"I will." I say. I shut the door and headed to my class. I walk into the classroom and put my bookbag in the closet.
"Good morning Sierra." says Mrs.Newman.
"Good morning." I reply.
"May I talk to you at my desk?" She asks.
I walk over to her desk and take a seat.
"So I read your story last night and I was absolutely stunned. You are an amazing writer and I really think you should apply to the school for the gifted, for middle school."
I was speechless.
"I will help you apply and help you get a portfolio together, but I do believe you will really thrive in that school."
I was overjoyed, "Thank you Mrs. Newman, I really appreciate it." I say.
"It's no problem at all, if you'd like you can stay after school today and we can start your portfolio."
From that day forward for a month and a half all I did was write and build up my portfolio. My portfolio had an array of things in it, from short stories, poems, plays, book reports, an essay, and a letter as to why I believe I should attend the school of the gifted.
When the day of my interview came I was so nervous. After the school day was over my dad took me to the school for the gifted.
"Good luck!" My dad says.
"Thank you." I say anxiously.
When I walk into the building I feel so overwhelmed. There were at least a hundred kids, some were dressed in leotards, some were holding violins, some were holding saxophones, flutes, clarinets, but it was hard to tell who were the writers in the room.
Several minutes after I checked in a lady came down the stairs and called all of the kids auditioning for creative writing. When we got into the classroom, there were about thirty of us. A lady walked around the room and collected our portfolios.
"Good afternoon everyone! I am the creative writing teacher here at the school for the gifted. We will be spending the next hour and a half together and within our time together there will be people in the back of the room, assessing your portfolios and as well as your participation. I will be doing a lesson with you guys and you will be graded on the quality of your assignments as well as your participation.
For the next hour and half I participated in all of the discussions and did all of the assignments to the best of my ability, and I think I did a pretty good job. By the end of the audition I'm not sure how I feel, there were so many other kids there and I was just hoping for the best.
Day after day passed and I waited for my acceptance letter to come in the mail. Once a month passed by with no letter and at that point I just let it be what it would be. After another month passed by and I had completely forgotten about the letter, it came in the mail! I tore open the envelope with excitement and read the letter. My smile quickly turned into a frown. I crumpled up the letter and threw it in the trash. At that moment I decided I wouldn't write anymore, if a school for creative writing didn't think I was good enough, then how good of a writer could I really be?
YOU ARE READING
A World Of Her Own
Teen FictionA girl who feels as though she doesn't fit in, her life is filled with a fight with reality and feeling safe.
