Advanced Essay #1: My Internal Reality

I am Kiah J, a person who does not put her last name on anything. A person that doesn’t like to share her feelings, or show emotion that makes her inferior, only speaking her mind when completely necessary. Also, a person who is deeply scared of dogs.

Woof. Woof. Wooof.

A pony-sized dog howled and came right up behind me, as I ran into the recreation center, straight through the hallway, and stopped before I turned the corner. A sigh came out of my body.

I walked up to the heavy double doors and pushed through them, revealing myself to the rest of the area. Immediately the smell of feet and sweat, with a hint of febreze filled my nostrils, making them flare up, taking in more of the odor. My foot steps onto the floor, and I walk to my silver and black cubbie, placing my clothes inside. I take my vans off and crouch down, just to perfectly place them under my clothes, then straighten my legs back up to their original position and throw my backpack on top of the cubbie.

My body turns itself around looking at the door, waiting for her to burst into the gym shouting, “Haaaay KJ, haay Aunt Nikki, Haay Girls!”. Instead, all I saw was a door. A plain and now uneventful door. I notice the gym itself, observing it like it was my first day at the gym. In a weird and sorrowful way, it was my first day back in the gym. Girls warming up, coaches giving corrections, and mats piled everywhere, just because no one ever feels like putting them back to where they belong.

She just left, how can everyone act like nothing happened? How can everyone just move on so quickly? Why can’t I do the same? Did she not mean anything to anyone? My mind was just spinning around the same questions, I couldn’t get them out of my head. All I could do was stare at everyone, until I gathered enough strength to hold back my tears. I stretched with my teammates, and decided to act just like they were, unbothered.

Containing my emotions inside, putting on a brave face, and moving on with life was what I was trying to do. My head hurt, I didn’t eat, and I couldn’t say more than 5 words when someone talked to me. I could tell that I wasn’t handling it right, I got angry. Angry that she left me, angry that nobody noticed, and angry that I couldn’t myself together. I pushed those feelings to the back of my brain. Get over it Kiah. Stop thinking about it.

Amberredz was what she loved to be called, but she settled with Ambeezy when it came to me; she let me get away with a lot of things. Because of this nickname, she came up with KJ, and it stuck onto me like glue. We were the perfect example of crazy cousins, and the perfect partners for committing a crime: the brains and the fearless. We spent countless days together, from the day I was born, to the day she died.

Your death hit me harder than anything in my life ever had.

“Get your grips on KJ... KJ!!” My coach blurted out.

“Yes,” I answered, startled.

“Are you okay? You can talk to me”

“Yea I’m good.”

I got up and let my legs take me towards my cubbie, as I was suddenly too tired to do anything important. I realized I was sulking, and I fixed my posture without a second thought. I repeated over and over in my head: You are okay. You are okay.

My hands were covered in chalk by just simply touching my grips, as I looked at the chalk, I put on the best smile my mouth would allow. Grips were on, so I went towards the rest of the group and listened to their conversation about school and what classes they had. My coach opened his mouth and began to talk.

My ears could only hear a song from the radio playing. It had become louder and louder, and I could feel myself getting weaker and weaker. It was one of Amber’s favorite songs.

I sprinted out the room, with my eyes overflowing with tears that I couldn’t control anymore. I leaned on the soda machines and fell to a fetal position sobbing, like a music video break up song. Suddenly, my coach came out, and sat down and hugged me.

“You don’t have to be strong, it’s okay.”

Although having a poker face is what I show, it doesn’t mean I’m all right. Being in a position where no one understands is hard enough, and keeping it in makes it worst. Mourning is not an easy task, it's one that seems so simple, until it actually happens, and the complexity is too much to handle. I have revealed that forgetting or pretending is not having strength, it's having the ability to admit my true feelings towards Ambeezy. It's remembering her for all the good things done together: laughing at memes; eating pizza; watching “Martin”, even if it meaning crying. It's wishing she was here in special moments: getting my belly button pierced; watching “The Wiz”; performing at competitions. It’s knowing she hasn’t left me by myself, with the same fear of dogs like she once had. A fear we once shared.