Summer of June - Children's Fiction - Mental Health - Emotional
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Child (5-12)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I am a wonder to behold. At least that's what mom said. When she saw the clumps of hair on the bathroom floor, she took one look at my bald head and my bare feet itching under all the shed weights and announced June Bug. You are a wonder to behold. And then she pried the pink bick razor from my fingers and took it to her own head. That's the thing about mom. She is a woman of action. Her dark waves fell and mixed with my blonde one and altogether we made an unruly mess, but it was a mess on the floor and not on our heads. So that was that she was not a wonder to behold. Honestly, all that hair had been hiding bumps and divots and a scalp. So white. It was almost gray. She scratched at it with her glittery purple nails, exploring the whole craggy moonscape mom. You look sensational. I said are brown eyes hooking on each other in the mirror. It was not true. Sometimes you have to tell a little white lie to call a bigger truth into being this summer. I am summoning all our truths truth number one. I will not be the girl who pulls out her own hair because she's running from the anxious thoughts in her head. Truth number two, mom and I will own our power as fierce independent females just because her boyfriend Keith dumped her last week. Does not mean mom has to become the lonesome librarian. He wasn't even supposed to be her boyfriend in the first place. He stopped by to try to sell us insurance and stayed three years. We can be happy without him together on our own. Here's truth. Number three, the secret truth. I am tired of being the nervous mouse girl who is scared all the time and runs from everything and I'm sick of waiting for the right things to happen. This summer. I am going to be a lion and I will make happily ever after come to me. 10 minutes later, I stand in front of my dresser mirror and stare at my melon as mom calls it. I hate my hair. Mom lied. I am no wonder I look like a visitor from another planet. I feel like that all the time. But now my outsides match my insides and I am not ok with it. I turn my head left and then right. But the views know better. I'm no lion. I am a pale white thing in a pale white room. I turn away from the mirror before I have to watch myself cry. My head itches to be itched. But I tuck my fingers into my palms. That's what got me in trouble in the first place. First, the itch starts on the inside from all the prickly thoughts and then it spreads outside like a creeping vine until I can feel it all over me like poison ivy. So I scratch. But once I start, I can't stop and then the scratching isn't enough. So I pull a yank and yank until with a tiny satisfying ping of pain. A hair or five come away for a sweet second. I'm numb. The worries go quiet. I can stop rocking in place. I can be still inside and out. What nobody gets is that hair pulling is satisfying with a capital s each strand is a pull chain in the tub yank on it and a little of the worry leaks out. It keeps me from overflowing or it did. I knock on my bare head with my fist once gently. Like I'm knocking on a door. Hello? Anybody home? This was a colossal mistake. Why did I think? Because my hair is gone. The itchy worry would be gone too. What am I going to do when it starts? And I've got nothing to use to stop it. Can you drown in your own thoughts?
Tags
Child, Geek, Kid Next Door, Student, Authentic, Believable, Child-like, Confessional, Deep, Defeated, Eccentric, Friendly, Genuine, Emotional