EXAM #1

ENGLISH COMMUNICATIONS

Well, my first year 12 exam ever is tomorrow morning (actually, it's this morning now...), at 9am. All we have to do is write a short story, approximately 500-1000 words, in an hour and a half. Although it must fit one of the many topics given, they're so broad that you can write almost anything. Therefore, the usual way of studying is to write a story, have it checked and then just re-write it in the exam - seeing as we have computers and all. Now, i know that many people only wrote their story today and forwent the checking stage. That was always my plan :P However, things came up and, though i had my idea, i am kind of yet to write it... but that's ok! I'm sure you all know just how well i can crap on, so i'm not too stressed. And now, you're all in for a lovely treat as you can all be privvy to the first draft of my story! Warning: depressing stuff seems to go over well, so this isn't going to be a story that's all kittens and rainbows!!!

HOPE CAN FIND A PATH THROUGH THE DARKNESS

Alone. The darkness closes in around me, like an iron curtain slamming down behind my eyes, blocking out even the tiniest pinprick of light. Alone, with nothing but my thoughts for company and they give me no joy. Alone, my thoughts are unable to weave a path through the gloom that is my mind, to the sunny pastures, bright and carefree, that i'm told can be found somewhere.

When i think back, i cannot remember a time when i was truly happy. I'm sure i was as a child, naturally - what child is not? But as my memories become more solid, as i approach the uncertainty of my teenage years, i lose track of the happy child i was. Of course there are moments, perhaps even minutes at times, when i have enjoyed myself, had fun with something. But recently, these times are more and more infrequent. Somehow, despite all my efforts to stay positive, the darkness has crept in. Through the walls i built in my mind to block out every bad thought i may have, it has slithered into me, through every tiny crevass and opening.

I'm not sure exactly when or why i lost the colour in my life. I remember a time when all i saw was the vibrancy of the universe; caterpillars gave me a rush of excitement when crawling slowly across my palms, a day at the beach was like a slice of heaven and a hug from my mum could fix any hurt i may have felt. Somewhere along the line, things changes. Caterpillars became creepy, crawly little bugs that should be avoided, the beach became a tiresome activity, full of itchy sand and painful sunburn and my mother became a stranger. Everything began to change, including the happy-go-lucky child that i remember being in my youth.

These days, every aspect of my life is painful. I don't see the bright colours in the world; black, white, grey and brown fill my vision. When, on rare occassion, people catch a glimpse of the pools of sadness that reside behind my eyes, i get told that 'everything will be better in a few years'. I got told that 'i'm going through a phase'. I get told that whatever i'm feeling is just 'teenage angst'. Could it be that i'm just dramatising life, in hope of a little relief from the dullness that surrounds me? Often, i consider this to be true and i try to convince myself to snap out of my reverie and experience life like a child would. But, try as i may, i cannot do this. Somehow, the parts of my life that hurt so much seem like they are too big a burden to be dramatised. They are too real.

Four years ago, my father was officially diagnosed with a disease. While not fatal, it would steadily serve to become more incapacitating, until he would become a shadow of his former self. More tests revealed that he had probably begun to suffer from the disease many years ago; in fact, maybe even before i was born. As i saw my once strong, proud and involved father begin to struggle with even the simplest of tasks, such as tying his shoes, changing a lightbulb or remembering to sign a form, i realised that i had never known this man when he was not trying to push his way out from under the oppression of his own personal curse. Never had i had a conversation with the man who i knew to be my father without the beast stirring inside him effecting it. This alone was enough to strip away any joy i was feeling. Then, as he got worse, he began to plan for the operation that could help slow his deterioration. However, as with so much of life today, there were risks involved. Determined to go ahead with it, i now sit and wait for my father to be admitted to hospital, for an operation that may leave him incapable of speech, or worse. The terror i feel at the thought of losing my father while i still have so much to learn is incapacitating. The realisation that i may never be walked down the isle by my dad causes a pain that pierces my heart.

While i watch the life of this man deteriorate, i still am forced to participate in the world. Time stops still for nobody to deal with their problems and this is no exception. As my father fails, i see my mother look to vices to deal with the pain. I see my big brother lose any interest in pursuing a career. My big sister moves away, unable to deal with seeing his pain daily. My little brother slowly comes to realise that he may spend most of his life without a father. Through it all, my own pain is coupled with a sense of guilt as i think that i should be helping these people, rather than stweing in my own thoughts. But, the pain eventually hurls the guilt aside and my family splinters, one person at a time.

With my family life in tatters, my friends become surrogates. I surround myself with them, wrapping them around me like a security blanket. Their laughter, their tears, their anger and their joy are all successful in letting me forget the shell of a family that awaits me after the completion of the school day. But, with my final year of schooling nearing it's end, the thirteen years of education that have plagued me are about to become a thing of the past; with it, the close-knit family i have had around me. Three more weeks and my on-call support network will vanish. That leaves me with only one more place to seek solace in my trouble.

From the beginning of time, church has been seen as a means to solve all problems. But, when you're a teenager who is struggling with the ups and downs of life, God and all that he stands for seems like a distant figure. When you're in an environment with people who are telling you that they love someone who they've never seen and they think that he can solve all their problems, you feel prone to laugh in their face, or to slap some sense into them. I can't understand why this 'saviour' would torture my father in this way. So, with those doubts wrecking havoc in my mind, i lose the last place i could turn to for comfort. Wracked with doubt, i feel like Judas Iscariot when i stand in the church and sing praises to God, when on the inside i am questioning his very existance. Finally, the sense of betrayal outweighs the happiness of people to talk to for once, and i have no choice but to leave.

With no family to deal with my problems, no friends for support and no community for comfort, i am alone. I sit here, trying not to think about the problems that plague me, for i don't think i can cry anymore tears. I shut myself off from the world, not wanting to experience it, not wanting to see anything more that could cause me pain. I try to focus on the shallow things in life; appearance, boys, gossip, television. Even though these mindless topics are so lightly discussed, they are too much for me. I don't fit the mould, i don't present myself as others always do. And where it didn't used to matter, where my dad used to pick me up and tell me that he would always think i was perfect, i now have nothing. There is nobody left to reassure me that myself is an okay person to be. I make the customary deals with the God i am unsure of; 'if you let my dad get better, i promise to be perfect for ever'. Unreasonable, i know. But what good is reason when life as you know it has shattered into a thousand pieces around you, pieces far too small to pick up and glue back together.

Alone, i am left to attempt to measure up against the standards of society. Alone, i try to strengthen myself, to shield myself against the hurts i know i may come up against in the world. Alone, i realise that i have no guidance to help me through the scary world out there. Alone, i shut myself away from it all, no longer able to bear the pain. Alone, it has been so long since i have spoken that i no longer would recognise the sound of my own voice. Alone, i can do nothing but wait and hope that things will get better.

Two years from now, i'll hopefully be somewhere where i can look back on the darkness that fills my life right now. Two years from now, i could be standing in the middle of those bright and carefree pastures that everyone tells me i can find in myself, if only i look hard enough. The thought of being there, surrounded by friends and family, happy and healthy, is what pulls me through the darkness, inch at a time. When everything else is gone, i am left with but one tool, one last resort, one last way to survive the pain alone. That final chance for a better future is hope.

...Ok, well, that was interesing. I didn't really have a plan for that, i just started to write. The idea kind of took on a life of it's own, didn't it?! Right, well, it's not Hemmingway or Shakespeare, but it will have to do. If i can drag myself out of bed early enough, i'll do a few edits and learn it slightly better, but i think i should be ok... touch wood!!! Not so bad for 45mins work at 1am in the morning!

Cross your fingers for me!! Toes too if you're feeling generous... :P

Annie

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