Friday, November 20, 2015

The Short but Terrifically Sweet Story of an Awkward Young Woman who Learns an Invaluable, Distinguishable Lesson SO 'Feminist-Esque' about Depending on Men for Inner Happiness...



"What Makes You Happy"

A Short Tale of an Everyday Western Girl's Life-Altering Decision

By Jordan Miguel Adorno



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         Sixteen-year-old Kelly sits on her twin-sized bed underneath her favorite Hello Kitty bedsheets, lame as she knows this makes her. Laying on her side with her head propped on the matching-set pillow, hands folded gracefully under her face, feeling tense nevertheless she lets go a yawning sigh which leaves a reasonable wistful distaste in her mouth. It is ten to midnight. A full moon is shining its luminous colorful light through her cream-colored, boring plain-like curtains. Normally, she likes that her bedroom is upstairs on occasions such as a full moon, when there is a spectacular sight to see. Tonight, however, she cannot care less about the pretty illuminated presence of a bright full moon directly past her window; no (if only), for tonight she has personal drama to sulk and overbearingly preoccupy herself with. Henceforth, lost dramatically in a tortured realm of overt mental madness, she indeed can even sense her entangled depressive thoughts nonstop racing across her brain. In fact, as far as her troubled, now vulnerable-feeling mind (currently in its most-corroded ever state) is concerned, her entire life has fallen apart in the proximity of one day's potential.

    So yeah, she is rather "distracted" one could say.

    In this single, actually proved incredible day (as it would swift turn out), her boyfriend of well over two years broke up with her, she found out about her parents' imminent divorce, AND she is having a bad hair day. The culmination of it all is taking a sufficient toll on Kelly. This is rather understandable of course, but that doesn't assuage any of her feelings, so it really makes no difference to Kelly right now. Even if it isn't but a, err, colossal-bit understandable (and it by all means IS, a pinch too much so no doubt, actually), either way bottom line she is in a great deal of pain. Anguish, actually, is perhaps more like it. This is like nothing she has ever been bothered by before.

    She can't stop pointlessly thinking, 'This sucks. I can't believe Mom and Dad are getting a divorce after twenty-five years of being together. Twenty-five years. And I can't believe I didn't see...' Her puzzling thoughts trail her, leave her more and more fazed. If she isn't pondering this without any answers, then she is thinking miserably to herself, 'I can't believe Jason cheated on me. That bastard! Always acting like he's the sweetest, nicest guy, and all the while he was just playing with my heart, and me, being stupid, fucking let him, too. I believed his lies, and now I feel like a fucking idiot for it.' Rolling over onto her other side, she takes a deep breath, blowing off some steam.

    In the discomfort of these unseeingly oh-so-isolating-like moments, Kelly literally hates herself. She cannot conceive how stupid she'd been to ever a trust a guy like Jason, and to stay with him for a whole two-and-a-half years at that. How stupid could she have been?! Now, she, unlike so many other girls (especially of her age), is one to avoid crying; the way she'd been raised, doing so is the act of letting your full guard down, to bury one's head in the sand with his or her pride right along with it. Usually she manages to follow this philosophy well. But tonight, it seems, is quite different, not succeeding to show a characteristic that is generally pretty uniform of herself. This, necessarily, bases on the fact that she is suffering the several tears which fall from her glistened, currently half-lifeless ocean-blue eyes.

   Becoming conscious of this, Kelly, apparently angry at herself for crying, agitatedly sits herself right up, wiping her tears off immediately; basically—though she, lost in hesitancy, won't ever allow herself to realize this, complicatedly—she refuses to accept she is merely human, and that there is nothing 'weak' about crying every once in a while. Nevertheless, she vehemently shakes her head in respite, crying out loud this time. "NO!! I won't waste tears on that lousy creep! I can't be that stupid..." She yells this as if to make real and sure the difficult-to-fathom principle for the sake of her 'fenced' state (so to speak) of own self. She is a qualifying member of the Rasputin family, after all, and cannot do injustice to its glorious name by letting herself get choked up like this. It is a reprehensible disservice. And besides, she, now starting to feel cognitive and more clear-headed about the whole thing, thankfully, reminds herself that Jason really isn't worth it; and as for the divorce, she embraces the reality check now that she is most definitely not the first person to ever go through something like this and come out alive and well. As a matter of fact increasingly frustrated, she keeps trying to emphasize all of that inside, being brutal on herself in her latter, rather dangerous impacting thoughts...

    'Just get the fuck over it, Kelly. If they're getting a divorce, then clearly they're not happy together, so why should you let yourself get depressed over it? Why bother questioning it; why bother wallowing in pointless denial? You're one of just millions of kids who go through this exact thing everyday. You'll live.' SARCASM...always a heartbroken cynic's choice of best friend, is often a path she takes (often successfully, too) as a method of cheering up; like a first step (for her, that is) in the process of healing. Grinning to the sardonic cynicism (that of which she makes sure becomes immediately internalized all-throughout, by the way) she falls back squarely on her pillow, then immediately finds herself looking up at the ceiling, totally focused, as though searching for answers on its white popcorn-base surface. Pulling the comforter over herself and attempting to get cozy like any normal night, sighing she closes her eyes, relaxes, and for a brief second after smiles at her own "silliness" (as that's what she at very least feels this whole debacle rather was, honestly, anyhow).

    And from this day forward Kelly does not ever, ever let an unfaithful man take over her emotions and sway her into another mess like that again—no, not now; no, not ever. Yep, it may have taken a moment, but Kelly Rasputin at last knows and recognizes that inside she is far, FAR better than being that kind of whiny, desperate girl who's always beside herself screeching (if you will), "OMG I'M GONNA DIE I DON'T HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!", and other likewise 'messed-up' shenanigans.

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