Ms. Gardner
English 10, Period 2
23 January 2014
Jordan failed to turn in an assignment; my mother failed to keep her cool. A chorus of What
were you thinking?! accompanied by a cacophonous counter-melody of thunderous banging
was all that greeted my ears. The question that rattled the halls of 1043 Mark Drive that day had
a clear answer, at least to me. He wasnt thinking. Without knowing it, he had passed that torch
off to me. It was my turn to think. My turn to be perfect. Hopefully my mind had learned
enough from its mentor to take up the challenge.
Flash forward to August, 2013, at fair Casa Grande where we lay our scene. Fourteen
years of my minds benevolent guidance had lead me to my freshman year; little did I know that
was soon to end. I quickly found that juggling startling mounds of homework, friends, and my
own insecurities in the vain attempt to remain perfect proved a task to arduous to handle, but
my brain persisted. Soon came the uncontrollable depression and guilt. My once pure mental
guide, the puppet master of my existence became more reminiscent of that from Five Nights at
Freddys 2, plaguing me with deadly hallucinations, paranoia, and unbearable psychological
pain.
Its all in your head, my mom would say, blind to the scars my mind constantly
inflicted on my soul. You just have to think positively.
Its not that simple I would mumble, invisible strings dragging me away on numb
legs. Its all in my head, huh? Little did Alicia Rones know how accurate that statement really
was. However, a truly skilled manipulator knows when to bait their victim, as I would soon
discover.
January, 2014: a new student joins the band. My mind and his quickly collaborate,
conjuring up a divine plan to steal my heart, and oh did it work. My minds master wasted no
time in convincing my fragile heart that I had found love, casting a brilliant veil over his blatant
abuse, which left me more broken than before. Yet my thoughts still clung to the vain hope that
he would never hurt me. My friends gradually disappeared from my side, leaving me all alone, at
the mercy of the voice inside my head that goaded me to die. Funny, how the organ responsible
for granting conscious life should lead one to thoughts of death. Turns out my new boyfriend was
plagued by the same voice. However, it wasnt until the Disneyland band trip that he acted upon
it. His phone call left me panic-stricken, crying for what felt like hours, each tear a fragment of
my once brilliant, collected consciousness that had been shattered and lost, my Stitch pillow pet,
my only comfort. Hmm, I wonder if Stitchs journey from near insanity was as painful as mine.
Whos to say?
We broke up after the incident, the thought of his potential suicide weighing on my
conscious, but I couldnt do it anymore, it had to end. So much for being perfect. One could
almost hear the puppet masters insidious laugh in the background.
My depression was at its peak, my minds tormentor offering my weary soul no rest as
freshman year approached its end, for the struggle to remain perfect still weighed heavily
upon me. I had never felt more strongly that the voice in my head spoke the truth: youre
worthless, hopeless, meaningless, and no one loves you. It was all true, or so I thought. Then I
met Miranda.
My sexuality is not so much a secret so much as not anyones business, therefore I wont
delve into it more than saying gender does not matter to me in the realm of love. That being said,
it wasnt too shocking when I fell helplessly for the incredibly vibrant, blue-haired, blue-eyed,
pokemon master Mandy. She was the only person who had been able to patch up the holes in my
heart and mind, the only person who made me truly happy, and the only person who made me
excited to live. The day she asked me to be hers remains to be the best day of my life. I could be
happy again, or so I thought. The puppet master soon struck again.
Oh its just a phase, they said. It wont last, shes just experimenting, they said. The
words of my relatives goaded the voice, and in turn, me. Why wouldnt they accept me? Was
there something wrong with me? Am I not allowed to be loved? To be happy? I felt unwelcome
in my own home, and it terrified me. I found myself right in the puppet masters trap, thinking
that maybe Im just not worth loving. It would be better if I just went away. But then, in the
midst of my dark cloud I glanced back at my Skype call, and the stunning azure-haired nerd that
I got to call my girlfriend, and suddenly the sun abolished the darkness. Who cared if the others
didnt accept the real me? Why should I care, when there is a beautiful soul sitting right in front
of me who loves me, inside and out, for me. Not some facade I pranced about with my whole
life, that perfect me. It was that moment when the puppet master lost its grip, and I was free.
Sure, my mind continues to struggle now and again with the ever-threatening presence of
the puppet master within me, for my depression recurs now and again and the struggle to be
perfect remains unabolished, but none of that truly matters, for when I look into my
girlfriends loving eyes I know who I truly am. My flaws, my insecurities, my mistakes, theyre
all in my head. And that is where they will stay.