The words left his mouth becoming a flying dagger as they sliced into my mind. I tried to release the words in my throat but they were already trapped, leaving me choked. I felt my shoulders heaving from my useless attempt to stand up for myself. My heart dropped, smacking onto the floor. My lungs struggling to be filled with the sweet forgiving air. My stomach, once filled with the love of butterflies, now filled with the hate of poisonous snakes threatening to pour out of my mouth.

The tension in the room was thick as the repetitive beeping of the facetime ending fills the small room. When I crawl out of the thick fuzzy blankets, I shake the six foot teddy bear off of me. Now standing on the bed, littered with gusher wrappers and empty chip bags, I begin to search for my phone.  I see my phone on the small black table littered with makeup. After weaving my way through pillows, makeup, and food, I look at myself in the large mirror. I can already see the tears welding in my eyes. I snatch my phone, knuckles turning white from the forceful hold as I waltz out of the room, doing my best impression of someone whose world isn’t falling apart.

I knock on the wooden door to my left when my best friend’s little sister and my own open the door. I can see their mouths moving asking me what’s wrong, but it all just sounds like white noise. I sit on the makeshift bed made for me out of several thick blankets.  Eyes wide in disbelief as I try to gather my thoughts. My phone screen lights up igniting my need to talk to someone. Without thinking, my thumbs crash into the keyboard allowing the ruckus in my brain to temporarily settle. As soon as I hit send the world came crashing down. The sound of various text and calls filled the upstairs portion of the house. My friends opening the door and shoving ringing phones in my face, forcing me to answer. When I hear the angry ramblings of the boys voice, I hang up the call and tell my friends to leave.

After slamming the door, I continue to walk around, my attempt to release the overload of emotions harassing me. I soon realized pacing made my already panicked state look more anxious. Reaching the small white vanity, I sank into the S shaped cushioned chair. The bright artificial lights illuminated my face as I rummaged through drawers trying to find something to wipe my makeup off. Relief swam through me when I finally spotted them. As I scrape at my face, angry red streaks are left behind. I tossed the wipe into the trash, but my trembling hands cause me to miss. I glanced at myself in the mirror seeing the pain in my eyes. Tears trying to dampen my cheeks with sadness. My bottom lip trembling like an earthquake as it threatens to wreak havoc and the upturn of my nose now painted with shades of pink.

I race through the door and to my desk, my fingertips itching to get everything off my chest. My hands shaking as I try to find a pencil and my eyelids heavy from a restlessness night. My face scorching with red hot rage and eyes wet with tears. My vision goes blurry as my pencil glides over the paper decorating it with scribbled words of fury and despair. I try to calm myself down but the thundering sound of my heart screaming in my ears gives me little help. Within a few minutes the paper is filled. I stuffed the note into the ancient shoe box under my bed and with that all my hurt. I crawl into bed face sodden from the fallen tears. Allowing my exhaustion to overcome me, I fall into a deep slumber.

The long, worn-out black, cardboard box under my bed contains me at my essence. The box holds scribbled torn out pages filled with my highest highs and my lowest lows. I keep it to relieve my pressure without forgetting where it came from. The well thought out arguments to my parents or “friends” and my heartbreaks that filled pages with regret remind me that not everyone has had my back, but I can still put in my part to forgive them and heal. The words I wrote with so much excitement you can feel it oozing off the page remind me that I’m not alone. This box is my first aid kit; it stitches me up but leaves a scar to remind me of why it’s there.