Page 133 of Faux Real
forty-one
Self-Reflection
KENNEDY
Avoidance.
It’s a term that I’m very familiar with. It’s so much easier to put every single thing that’s bothering you into a mental box and forget about it. Lock it up and throw away the key. Pretend it never happened. Pretend you don’t feel the pressure. Pretend you don’t see the problem. Pretend you don’t have feelings. Pretend that everything is fine.
It’s easy to pretend. It’s easy to ignore. It’s easy to push away. But eventually, when your mental box finally reaches its capacity, all that pretending overflows. It overflows big time. Everything you’ve avoided, ignored, pushed aside comes spilling and gushing and pouring out. It creates a mess.
A giant fucking mess.
And God, do I hate messes, preventable ones in particular. They’re the worst because you knew they were coming. You could sense it. Feel it in your bones.Danger ahead. Stop now.The signs were all there. Red and big and flashing. But, like everything else, I avoided them.
Until now.
Sometimes messes are hard to clean up. They require a lot of work. A lot of dedication. A lot of strength.Internalmesses require patience. With yourself. With the process. With accepting that you might never be spotless. Might never be perfect. That there might be residue, dust, evidence of the mess that stays with you forever. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe we’re allowed to be a little messy. A little dirty. A little rough around the edges. Maybe that’s what makes us special. Unique.
Human.
Internal messes can take weeks, months, years to clean up. But I think the effort will be worth it. Because...I think I’m worth it. I think my mind deserves to live in a clean environment. It deserves to roam free without fear of bumping into that damn mental box that takes up way too much fucking room. I don’t want a box. I want space. Room for growth. Room to feel. To love. To relax. Room to just be myself.Finally. So, a year or even ten doesn’t feel like that much time.
But forexternalmesses? Time is of the utmost importance.
“I’m just heading to the headmaster’s office now,” I say into my phone, fiddling with Maxine’s prescription bottles as I walk through the quad. I can’t believe Rothland’s secretary shooed me away twice. Twice! What is he so busy with? This is his job. “How’s everything with your aunt? Did you talk to your dad yet?”
“Bessie couldn’t get a hold of my parents. I called Freddie and he said they’re on a business trip in Dubai right now,” Ollie sighs. “Listen, Ken, are you sure—”
“Yes, I’m sure!” I exclaim, pausing by the fountain. “I know it’s a long shot but it’s the only thing I can think of.”
“He’s going to think you’re lying,” Oliver comments. “You’re too perfect to be fallible, love.”
I roll my eyes. “Funny."
“If only you were more of a shit student, eh?” Ollie teases. “Maybe you should break a window or something. Smoke a spliff in the corridor. Oh! Push a bike through the grass, huh? That ought to do it.”
“Stop making jokes, this is serious.” I pout. “How are you taking this so lightly?”
“‘Cause it’s out of my hands, Ken,” Ollie says in a playful tone. “In the words of Maxine, ‘this is ayouproblem, not ameproblem’.”
“You’re a real gem, you know that Knight?” I say, scowling.
“I’d like to think of myself more of askipping stone,” he jokes.
I groan, closing my eyes. “I’m going to hang up now.”
“Good luck trying to prove you’re a bad egg,” he sings. God, he could at least pretend to be concerned. “Call me when you fail.”
“Goodbye, Oliver,” I state, suppressing a smile. I should not be smiling right now!
“Bye,” he says, pausing for a moment before adding, “I love you, my little psycho.”
Shit. Now I’m actually smiling. Damn it, Oliver!
“I love you too,” I say, shaking my head in mild frustration. It’s like impossible to feel anything but happy when I talk to him now. What kind of sorcery is this?
Hanging up, I shove my phone in my pocket and head into the school, making my way to Rothland’s office. This time I’m not taking no for an answer. He will hear me out! My phone rings just as I’m turning the corner toward the administrative offices.
