Forget and Not Slow Down
Random short story about the thoughts bouncing around in heads of strange people. Chapter 1.
A siren rang in the distance. The sound bounced if the buildings onto the vacant streets. I turned towards the sound and headed that direction. I had nothing else to do. I was taking a breather from my crazy parents in their crazy apartment. A girl screamed. My pace quickened, as my suspicions carried me faster. I saw the flashing lights of a police car ahead of me. "Almost there," I said under my breath.
When I got to the scene, I saw two police officers and a woman. The officers were holding her down, trying to force her to stop kicking and screaming. The woman looked as if she was drowning and was trying to come up for air. She also looked completely fanatical. Her hair was untamed, her eyes bloodshot, and her clothes torn all over. The woman screamed, "Help! Help me!" repeatedly. I looked around; there might have been three other people besides me here. The officers were struggling to keep her under their control.
After a few minutes of kicking, the woman broke free and ran. She ran right past me. The cops ran past me too almost four seconds apart. I turned around secretly hoping for the woman to get away. She had not. They already had her in their grasp again. She still did not give up. She kicked, screamed, and tried to bite the men holding her. Eventually more men came and they took the woman down.
As she hit the ground with much force, I noticed something small come from her pocket. I could not see what it was from my position and I did not want to get up and hand it to her while she was in this condition. The police did not even notice. They forced her to get on her feet and walk to the cruiser. She was weeping now, sad from losing her battle, I thought. When they shut the door, she leaned against the window and screamed. You could faintly hear it from outside the car.
They, the men and the woman, left then. I could still see her screaming face in the window, tears flowing down her face. She seemed so helpless, but so brave. She did not want to give up. She was going to fight until the end. She was determined. Then she lost, and she still did not give up. She fought on, using a different tactic. I did not know this woman but I looked up to her. I envied her courage and strength. More people needed to be like that. Unable to stop from doing what you believe is right and fighting against what you believe to be wrong.
I began to walk away from the scene, when I remember the item that fell from her pocket. Maybe, she wished it not be seen or her not to be forgotten. Whichever the case, I wanted to grab it. Whatever it as I wanted it. I walked over to the shiny object, and picked it up. It was a piece of paper. Wrapped up into a cylinder shape and tied with a ribbon. I examined the outer surface. There was writing on the other side. I wished to read it desperately. I shoved it in my pocket and turned my head from side to side, making sure no one had seen. I did not see a single person. Everyone must have left. I sighed. That is what I must do now, I feared.
Depart the streets and return home was my new task. As I entered the door, I noticed all the lights were out. I was grateful for sleep. It was helping me sneak in unnoticed by the undeniably strict parents who also lived here. When I had reached my bedroom, I softly closed the door and walked over to my desk, which happened to have a light on it. I turned on the switch and carefully pulled the note from my pocket. I brought it up to my face, somewhat afraid to open it. I took a deep breath and tugged on the string forcing it to reveal the inner message. I found the start of the page and began reading. It read:
Dear Reader,
I hope that someone found this who has an idea of how dreadful life can be. If not, I hope this note will make you realize that it is. Whether you live, a good life or not I am telling you that the best way is to embrace death when it comes. Some people are afraid of dying and that is an awful waste to worry about a simple unpleasant fact. Live your life to the fullest of its potential by attempting things no one has ever done before. Do not listen to the rules that you do not agree with. Instead, try thinking outside the box for once. Dare to be different. Now I am rambling, but the point is just being you no matter what.
Some people are lucky and find the best friends they could ever have. Some people go through friends like a tissue in allergy season. Some people never find the right friends even though they search and search and search. Some people just do not look. This brings me to Sydney and Brittni. They were both, in one point of my life, my best friend. Sydney came fist and we would hang out in recess, be each other's partner in gym, and sit together at lunch like normal school friends but Sydney took our friendship beyond school. She invited me over to her house one weekend and helped me set up an email account (please keep in mind this was third or fourth grade) so I could talk to her after school on the computer.
She showed me her favorite websites and I realized for the first time that this is what a best friend was for, someone to be there, laugh with you, show you new things, make you feel good, and invent ways to keep in touch. I also found out that night that she is afraid of sleeping at other people's houses. She has pancakes with peanut butter and syrup on them every Saturday morning as like a pattern so when her mom leaves for work early that morning she will not feel so lost and alone. She knows she will always have those pancakes even if they do not take place of her mother. That is also, what a best friend does. Best friends share their secrets and their inner most desires with each other. Now we come to Brittni. Brittni is a weird child who lost her father at a very young age. She moved to Kansas when we were in 6th grade and that was that.
I never really talked to her for most of my 6th grade year but in 7th grade, we really hit it off. There was just something about Brittni. You knew you could tell her a secret and she would never tell a soul. I loved Brittni (as a friend) because she did have a personality that was somewhat dark and a dark sense of humor but she was mostly just using the darkness as a mask to what she really felt. For Brittni it was hard to get close to anyone and she was afraid of showing herself because she did not want anyone to laugh or not like her for who she really was. Brittni rarely shared any feelings she had about herself but she was quick to notice the feelings of others and make them feel good about themselves no matter what the occasion.
The only thing she would ever really tell me was when someone was being fake or untrue to himself or herself. She was good at that telling the real from the fake. If you take the time to notice, you can tell it too. You begin to notice when someone smiles at you and you look deeper into the smile as if you see their soul and you can tell that everything there is fake. Well hanging around Brittni so much at school (never outside school. yes she calls me her best friend but I have never been to her house and we hardly ever text) gave me the ability to tell someone's fake side from their real side. Now this Brittni is a completely new person. Not only does she look different (cute haircut with bangs, actually styles it now, wears make up, wears short shorts we used to call people sluts for wearing, and is always wearing a smile fake/real a lot of people can't tell) but she has a whole new personality to go along with it.
She does not comfort people as much actually she probably tears them down more than anything. She calls people mean names without even looking at them or find the reason or meaning of anything. She doesn't think before she speaks, she doesn't care about who she hurts and the fake smile she used to point out to me all the time is now perched on her perfectly lip glossed lips for everyone to see. What about me in a new change of hers? Do I get a say? No of course not, all the secrets I have ever told her pile on top of each other like bricks in the very back of her mind not even given a second thought. When I am feeling bad or I look like crap does she come comfort me anymore. Not even, close. Some days I doubt she even notices I am at school. Where is my best friend now? Was she even a best friend to begin with?
Best friend: someone you see outside school that you can share secrets with and know they will be kept forever. Someone who is there for you even if they are having a bad day too. Someone who puts you on the top of the list every time. Someone you can trust to call anytime you need help. Someone who makes you laugh, smile, and shares your fun times with each other.
I have more notes of venting thoughts that scream out to be read by someone other than the person who already knows how the story goes, but if you want to know more, read more, or find the crazy freak who wrote the stupidest note ever than you will research the name Barbra Olson. If you are smart, you will figure out how to find me. In addition, maybe you are already halfway there and I am not even aware yet. Good luck young reader.
Taking a deep breath, I set the piece of paper down on the table. I closed my eyes for a moment before standing up with a wide grin on my face. I knew what I must do.
When I got to the scene, I saw two police officers and a woman. The officers were holding her down, trying to force her to stop kicking and screaming. The woman looked as if she was drowning and was trying to come up for air. She also looked completely fanatical. Her hair was untamed, her eyes bloodshot, and her clothes torn all over. The woman screamed, "Help! Help me!" repeatedly. I looked around; there might have been three other people besides me here. The officers were struggling to keep her under their control.
After a few minutes of kicking, the woman broke free and ran. She ran right past me. The cops ran past me too almost four seconds apart. I turned around secretly hoping for the woman to get away. She had not. They already had her in their grasp again. She still did not give up. She kicked, screamed, and tried to bite the men holding her. Eventually more men came and they took the woman down.
As she hit the ground with much force, I noticed something small come from her pocket. I could not see what it was from my position and I did not want to get up and hand it to her while she was in this condition. The police did not even notice. They forced her to get on her feet and walk to the cruiser. She was weeping now, sad from losing her battle, I thought. When they shut the door, she leaned against the window and screamed. You could faintly hear it from outside the car.
They, the men and the woman, left then. I could still see her screaming face in the window, tears flowing down her face. She seemed so helpless, but so brave. She did not want to give up. She was going to fight until the end. She was determined. Then she lost, and she still did not give up. She fought on, using a different tactic. I did not know this woman but I looked up to her. I envied her courage and strength. More people needed to be like that. Unable to stop from doing what you believe is right and fighting against what you believe to be wrong.
I began to walk away from the scene, when I remember the item that fell from her pocket. Maybe, she wished it not be seen or her not to be forgotten. Whichever the case, I wanted to grab it. Whatever it as I wanted it. I walked over to the shiny object, and picked it up. It was a piece of paper. Wrapped up into a cylinder shape and tied with a ribbon. I examined the outer surface. There was writing on the other side. I wished to read it desperately. I shoved it in my pocket and turned my head from side to side, making sure no one had seen. I did not see a single person. Everyone must have left. I sighed. That is what I must do now, I feared.
Depart the streets and return home was my new task. As I entered the door, I noticed all the lights were out. I was grateful for sleep. It was helping me sneak in unnoticed by the undeniably strict parents who also lived here. When I had reached my bedroom, I softly closed the door and walked over to my desk, which happened to have a light on it. I turned on the switch and carefully pulled the note from my pocket. I brought it up to my face, somewhat afraid to open it. I took a deep breath and tugged on the string forcing it to reveal the inner message. I found the start of the page and began reading. It read:
Dear Reader,
I hope that someone found this who has an idea of how dreadful life can be. If not, I hope this note will make you realize that it is. Whether you live, a good life or not I am telling you that the best way is to embrace death when it comes. Some people are afraid of dying and that is an awful waste to worry about a simple unpleasant fact. Live your life to the fullest of its potential by attempting things no one has ever done before. Do not listen to the rules that you do not agree with. Instead, try thinking outside the box for once. Dare to be different. Now I am rambling, but the point is just being you no matter what.
Some people are lucky and find the best friends they could ever have. Some people go through friends like a tissue in allergy season. Some people never find the right friends even though they search and search and search. Some people just do not look. This brings me to Sydney and Brittni. They were both, in one point of my life, my best friend. Sydney came fist and we would hang out in recess, be each other's partner in gym, and sit together at lunch like normal school friends but Sydney took our friendship beyond school. She invited me over to her house one weekend and helped me set up an email account (please keep in mind this was third or fourth grade) so I could talk to her after school on the computer.
She showed me her favorite websites and I realized for the first time that this is what a best friend was for, someone to be there, laugh with you, show you new things, make you feel good, and invent ways to keep in touch. I also found out that night that she is afraid of sleeping at other people's houses. She has pancakes with peanut butter and syrup on them every Saturday morning as like a pattern so when her mom leaves for work early that morning she will not feel so lost and alone. She knows she will always have those pancakes even if they do not take place of her mother. That is also, what a best friend does. Best friends share their secrets and their inner most desires with each other. Now we come to Brittni. Brittni is a weird child who lost her father at a very young age. She moved to Kansas when we were in 6th grade and that was that.
I never really talked to her for most of my 6th grade year but in 7th grade, we really hit it off. There was just something about Brittni. You knew you could tell her a secret and she would never tell a soul. I loved Brittni (as a friend) because she did have a personality that was somewhat dark and a dark sense of humor but she was mostly just using the darkness as a mask to what she really felt. For Brittni it was hard to get close to anyone and she was afraid of showing herself because she did not want anyone to laugh or not like her for who she really was. Brittni rarely shared any feelings she had about herself but she was quick to notice the feelings of others and make them feel good about themselves no matter what the occasion.
The only thing she would ever really tell me was when someone was being fake or untrue to himself or herself. She was good at that telling the real from the fake. If you take the time to notice, you can tell it too. You begin to notice when someone smiles at you and you look deeper into the smile as if you see their soul and you can tell that everything there is fake. Well hanging around Brittni so much at school (never outside school. yes she calls me her best friend but I have never been to her house and we hardly ever text) gave me the ability to tell someone's fake side from their real side. Now this Brittni is a completely new person. Not only does she look different (cute haircut with bangs, actually styles it now, wears make up, wears short shorts we used to call people sluts for wearing, and is always wearing a smile fake/real a lot of people can't tell) but she has a whole new personality to go along with it.
She does not comfort people as much actually she probably tears them down more than anything. She calls people mean names without even looking at them or find the reason or meaning of anything. She doesn't think before she speaks, she doesn't care about who she hurts and the fake smile she used to point out to me all the time is now perched on her perfectly lip glossed lips for everyone to see. What about me in a new change of hers? Do I get a say? No of course not, all the secrets I have ever told her pile on top of each other like bricks in the very back of her mind not even given a second thought. When I am feeling bad or I look like crap does she come comfort me anymore. Not even, close. Some days I doubt she even notices I am at school. Where is my best friend now? Was she even a best friend to begin with?
Best friend: someone you see outside school that you can share secrets with and know they will be kept forever. Someone who is there for you even if they are having a bad day too. Someone who puts you on the top of the list every time. Someone you can trust to call anytime you need help. Someone who makes you laugh, smile, and shares your fun times with each other.
I have more notes of venting thoughts that scream out to be read by someone other than the person who already knows how the story goes, but if you want to know more, read more, or find the crazy freak who wrote the stupidest note ever than you will research the name Barbra Olson. If you are smart, you will figure out how to find me. In addition, maybe you are already halfway there and I am not even aware yet. Good luck young reader.
Taking a deep breath, I set the piece of paper down on the table. I closed my eyes for a moment before standing up with a wide grin on my face. I knew what I must do.
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