The Dumped Club

9- Never Perfect

Weapons. Blades upon blades that can protect you or be used against you. When you think of weapons you think of swords, spears, knives, daggers. But you never really think of your mind. You never realise that you have already have a weapon protecting you from breaking and that weapon is your mind.

We're always told by philosophers, celebrities and psychologists that your mind is the most powerful thing in your life. You always believe it, you keep it in your thoughts for a few hours and then it just buries itself at the back of your brain, never to be seen when you are having a panic attack or when you feel like you're dying. Because your mind is a weapon. It can protect you or it can turn against you.

And most of your life you think that your mind is against you. That time you forgot your homework and you have to spend an hour in detention, or the time when you say something stupid, you blame your mind for not getting it correct. I have always been one to think that my mind was against me. It allowed that car accident to take my mind's blade and leave me hopelessly lost and confused. But what I realised very recently was that it isn't always against me. It kept me alive when I was in that black pit of nothingness, it pushed my body until I reached consciousness. I was nothing but a bag of fragile skin that could've been broken but my mind kept my heart beating and I was grateful that it didn't give up on me.

The night of the accident only came back to me when I was sitting there and crying. I was alone in the dark room and through the foggy mess of negative thoughts in my head, the memory flashed like a torch.

The atmosphere wasn't too different, it was dark outside and we had the lights on in the car. Quiet music was playing in the background and I was in the passenger's seat, looking out of the window. Martin and Amy were asleep, their heads lolling from side to side when we hit a bump in the road. It was the normal ambience of a short road trip.

I was writing down notes on my phone, describing the scenery outside and lyrics that I liked. It was something I did a lot of the time; making notes on what's happening around me for my poems. I got tired after a while so I tucked my phone in a pocket and looked straight ahead. We were driving in a linear line when I spotted another car driving toward us. Just as I was about to point it out to Mum, the car came speeding towards and Mum swerved right. The swerve was so powerful that I felt like my beating heart was going to rip out of my chest as we crashed into a tree. My head smashed the window and I felt like the air was knocked out of me. I was light-headed, my chest was tight in my baggy jumper and my blood turned cold. The last thing I saw were the blue butterfly stickers Martin had stuck to the ceiling of our car before the pain in my head took over and my body shut down.

I didn't know that I'd closed my eyes while replaying the memory until I was met back with the murky darkness of our room. I wiped my tears away and took deep breaths to calm myself down but my heart continued beating against my ribcage. I heard footsteps and within seconds there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," I said in a hoarse voice, once again wiping my eyes. The door swung open and Fred was revealed.

"Your aunt and cousins are leaving," he explained. "Poppy told me to fetch you so you can say goodbye."

"I'll be there in a second." Fred stood outside the room for a few more seconds.

"You shouldn't take it to heart. She doesn't have a right to say those words because she hasn't seen how hard you work."

How did he know though? We were in the same English class but he'd never read anything I'd written.

"I know," I replied. "Thanks."

We walked out of the room to see Aunty Lauren zipping up her coat and the cousins busily talking to the Darwin twins and my siblings. Marie made sure to bat her eyelashes when she saw Fred and I could just feel him getting tense. My expression was stone cold as I awkwardly shook hands with Aunty Lauren and retreated back to my room. I had never been the perfect niece and I wasn't about to give her the illusion that I wasn't insulted and disappointed.