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  • Writer's pictureSkye Cabrera

In My Mind

Grey clouds flood the sky as I awake. I silently wish to have more time to sleep. Dragging my body along, I go to the bathroom.

I feel like passing out. I am terribly sleepy. My heart was pounding so hard last night I couldn't sleep.

Immediately after taking a bath, I grab the nearest piece of clothing available to me. Surprisingly, it was the pearl white dress I've been meaning to wear for the longest time.

I look fat and ugly in this dress. I should change it. People will look at me and be disgusted. God, I'm such a pig.

Get a grip on yourself.

I wear a different dress. "Good morning, honey!" My father calls out for me after descend the stairs.

Say good morning back, or else he'll die.

"Good morning!" I say, with a huge smile on my face. "What are we up to today?"

God, hopefully, nothing. My own thoughts keep me up late. I feel dead.

Or close to it.

"We might go to that winter fair that just recently opened up," my mother jumps into the conversation.

The winter fair? Really? The sky is literally so grey. What will I do if out of nowhere a tornado forms?

Heck! I don't even know how tornadoes form. I should really search that up. Also, isn't it a walking safety hazard? Thousands of people are attending. Statistically speaking, it's not impossible that at least one of them is either a serial killer, murderer, terrorist, etc. God! Why can't we just stay at home?

"Great! I've been looking forward to it for the longest time." I reply, faking the biggest grin.

We're always flooded by tourists in our town. By always, I mean only during "Snowball Season" (as the media likes to call it). Known as the "Snowball Winter Fair", thousands of tourists visit the small town of West Bay to experience the festivities. From delicious corn dogs to thrilling rides, it is the go-to place to have fun in the winter.

I wonder if the police have thoroughly checked everybody's bags. Or probably even done a background check on most of them. It's absolutely dreadful that I have absolutely no control over this. Wait. Does it make me a bad person if I just assume the people here are all horrible murderous creatures? I mean, I shouldn't judge them based on the fact they're likely to be a murderer, right?

My little sister, just two years younger to me, tugs on my shirt. "Okay, I bet you can't ride that," s he says pointing to a piece of big machinery called "The Avalanche" or as the local newspaper likes to call it the "The Scariest Ride of the Century!"

Is she stupid? Of course, I can't.

Again: WALKING! SAFETY! HAZARD! What if, out of nowhere, that machine suddenly stops. It unbuckles our seatbelts and lets us fall to our deaths. What then? I should just tell her that I'm not interested in riding it. It's that simple… right?

"Jeez, you take so long to reply." My little sister barks up. "If you won't ride it, I'll ride it on my own. Hope you don't mind," she adds as she runs towards the "The Scariest Ride of the Century!"

She's gonna die. Stop her. Tell her to come back. "Okay, then! Good luck, I guess" I muster the words out, trying to fight back the rock that is forming on my throat.

Are you dumb? Just tell her. Stop being an idiot. I watch as her figure disappears from a distance. You're a horrible person. Do you not know that? Honestly, you're so worthless.

The rock on my throat fights harder.

God! Don't throw up now. You're embarrassing yourself in front of all these people. Stop being a waste of space and save your sister. If you don't want to, just walk away.

I tried to walk away but the rock won.


"Honey! Are you feeling better?" My father says as he enters my room.

No. I feel horrible.

"I'm getting better every minute!" I say back.


"Okay then! Have nice dreams for me, will you?" He tries to console me.

I'll probably have nightmares. But thank you.

"Of course, Dad!" I laugh.


"Good night!" I scream back as my dad closes the door.

Please don't leave me with my thoughts.


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