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TITLE (EDIT)
Be Sure Of Your Acts |
DESCRIPTION
A short and descriptive story.
[939 words] |
AUTHOR
Catalina Chavarro |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
A 14 year old girl.
[April 2000] |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (1)
Our Creation (Short Stories) It's a short story about human creation. It has magic realism and at the same time is very detailed. [801 words]
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Be Sure Of Your Acts
Catalina Chavarro
Be sure of your acts!
All the years, and in many I was growing up, my friends would tell me that I was a lucky guy, ways they were right. My parents were always very loving persons. They provided a good home for my two sisters, my brother and me. On top of this, my dad is a doctor and we were always comfortable financially. We had a beautiful house right on the beach, and lots of materials things other people didn’t have. Yet I never felt happiness inside. Although my parents were caring and warm, I felt a stranger in my own family. I was sure mom and dad, my brother and sisters, were all smarter, and happier than I was.
Until the eight grade, I attended a small school. I was very involved there and had a lot of good friends. I was a good basketball prayer, and I knew it. But that good feeling was not a lasting thing. I was very insecure inside, and I began to hide it by begin loud and disruptive in class. I thought the other kids would like me better if they thought nothing bothered me, and I could do what I wanted when I wanted. I was the perfect example of the guy who’s tuff on the outside but timid and shy on the inside, I really didn’t have personality.
As early as the sixth grade, I started to drink once in a while, hoping that if would give me a good feeling about myself and in a way it did. It made me feel cool when I would tell my friends how I got drunk over the weekend. I was surprise how easy it was to cover up my bad feelings and fool people, to make them believe I was a tuff guy who wasn’t faced by anything. Even a knew drinking was not a good idea, I kept telling myself, “I’d never do pot or anything like that,” (but never say never.)
The first time I smoked I was in the eight grade. I didn’t even get high, but I faked it. I act really silly, so I could keep up my cool reputation among my friends. It was kind of stupid.
The next time I used pot, things were different .A friends and I was hiding behind a building. I lost all the senses of time and distance, and part of me was really scared, but I also felt very free and easy. I thought it was great just sitting around, laughing and feeling strange.
Drug dependence is a weird thing. You’re sure that you have everything under control, that you only use drugs occasionally. But gradually you get pulled in. At the begging of ninth grade, I started to get high every morning, and some days I’d just never make it to school. I was working and had money to get drugs whenever I wanted. I decided my old friends were boring because they didn’t get high, and I turned on to new kids who were more exciting.
I still had my parents convinced that I was great guy and that they could trust me. Lying to my folks was part of my “Mr. Cool” act. But as time went by, they couldn’t help but see the changes in me, although at first they didn’t understand them. I wasn’t considerate around home anymore. I wished they’d just get off my back, but they kept the pressure on, telling me of my responsibility with family and myself. Finally, I decided in favor of my new friends. “After all,” I told myself,”it’s my life. I can do whatever I want”. So there was no one I could trust. I started losing self-respect. I no longer cared how I dressed, or if my hair was too long, or how I talked in front of people. I would do drugs to feel better about myself, but I’d end up feeling worse, so I’d do more drugs. Getting high was no longer a thing I did it to feel happy and have fun. I had to get high to just feel normal. My life was getting down hill fast. Until one morning, I woke up and found my parents standing by my bed. They told me to dress up, and before I was conscious enough to know what was happening my parents had driven me to St. Petersburg, Rehabilitation Clinic. And I stated the rehabilitation.
Like everyone else, I started at Phase One. It was worse than being in jail. You couldn’t go home, you couldn’t go to school, you couldn’t watch movies or TV or go out to eat. During Phase Two, you went home to your folks at night, but the rest of the time you were at the center. During Phase Three, you get to go back to school, but you still have to be at the center the minute school finished. When making Phase Four. You’re allowed to take days of from the program. Phase five is mostly helping out, observing. At this stage, you’re into your new life.
The program ended. And my life is so different now, I don’t even recognized the old me. Life is perfect.
This boy doesn’t have any problems. He’s now a normal guy now. It was really difficult for him to star a new life, but he finally did it. And be sure that
not only the people that drink, smoke, and consume drugs, suffer also the ones that love them. Like this boy, his parents also suffer a lot; but they also recovered themselves.
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READER'S REVIEWS (1)
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"me parece el peor cuento quehe leido, catalina es una inmaudor" -- andrea.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2000 Catalina Chavarro |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
April 2000 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2190
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