a story..

"Jaded Thursdays"
It was a regular Thursday for me. I woke up and Mom wasn’t home. I didn’t know where she was, but I knew she would be back . . . sooner or later. My brothers and I got ready for school and carried on as usual. I was a troubled, out-spoken kid then, thinking the lifestyle I had adapted to was normal. But it wasn’t. I discovered that later on in the day when they called me away from my seventh grade class and asked me if I could please go to the principal’s office. As I walked to the office, my mind was in a race with my feet, trying to figure out what offence I had committed this time. But before my mind could catch up, I was there, knocking on the door of her office.
The door opened, revealing my mother, drowning in a pool of her own tears and sadness, as well as two people whom I did not recognize. I took a seat and began realizing the situation I was in. As the tears began to break me down, I realized it was happening again, only this time it was as if I was more aware of it happening, and the reasons behind it. I was being taken away from my mother once again; I was being ripped from the clutches that had nurtured me from the stage of infancy. The two people turned out to be the reapers of my fate, sent by their mother agency, the Children’s Aid Society. They began to explain how they had received a phone call from a doctor the night before. That previous night, my mother had decided to dip into an old habit; she dipped herself right into an overdose. I shattered, like a mirror, into pieces. The disappointment overwhelmed my heart to the point of gasping breaths. Choking on my own tears, I walked to my locker to retrieve my belongings. I was going for a ride with the male of the two reapers who were in the office. He was taking me to my new home for the next chapter of my life. It was a long, quiet ride. A time to think.

Let us zoom out a little bit, and take a look at life beforehand. I was the poor kid. So what? I had friends, and a sarcastic, mean sense of humour. I was the kid in public school who was suspended many times. The kid who hated authority. So every time I was in trouble, I’d fight it, like a self-employed lawyer. It never got me anywhere, but it provided a bit of fun. Everyone thought it was awesome that I had the "guts" to say what I did. But back in that office, I could see the hurt in her eyes. I could feel the hurt inside myself; it was one of the most uncomfortable environments to be in. I had someone telling me that my life was going to totally change from here on out. After the "taking" and "distribution" of my brothers and me, I knew "The Man" had won his case. I no longer felt that bit of excitement and joy I once did. I was left broken, bloodied, and bruised. I was a wounded lion, with nothing left but the rest of his days. And I hated it. I hated them. I hated everyone. It was about this time that I stopped discussing my emotions, feelings, and basic opinions with those around me, because I felt no one cared to listen. Besides, no one would understand.
Being taken away from my mother at the age of twelve caused a ripple effect in the ocean I had called life. Its waves altered and disrupted my destined path in new ways. Being moved to somewhere new, where I had to adapt to a new environment, new people, and a new life changed me. I met new people who, otherwise, I never would have met. These people have impacted my life in good and bad ways, helping to create who I am. Some in good ways and some ways bad. I have a very dark perception of life, and an overall hatred of the whole idea of what our lives are and what they are going to be. But, like everyone, I have my ways of coping with the loss and the rioting emotions. There are positive ripples also, as odd as that seems. For example, I am planning on attending college, getting a good career, and helping kids who are going through the same things I was and am going through. I believe that I can really make a difference in some kid’s life, or at least, so I hope.
It was a regular Thursday, but that Thursday would change me forever. Now, I’m just me, being me, and that’s all anyone can really do. In hindsight, my situation was a horrible time for me, and still cuts at my soul. But it has painted a brighter future for me, granted me more opportunities, and the friends I have made since are remarkable people. They have all been the artist’s hands in molding what I am today, and who I’ll be in the future. I will go on facing yesterday with a frown, today with a grimace, and tomorrow with a smile.