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Member
Join Date: Jul 2007
Posts: 2
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Negativity's Chokehold (1,171 words)
Charlie, a fifteen-year-old high school sophomore, sat impatiently, staring blankly at his class work; paper atop paper lined with lecture notes, test reviews, practice worksheets - all too mediocre and insignificant in comparison to the slur of thoughts and worries he was attempting to decipher. As his classmates worked diligently, thumbing through text books page after page, examining diagrams, and defining vocabulary words, His mind raced with bewilderment, punctuated by hints of fear, peppered throughout with shots of isolation, regret, and dissatisfaction. Time passed by, class droned by, yet his mind remained focused on one topic, one general thought and feeling; whether or not he had reason to believe that Marie, the closest thing he had to a best friend, had begun to slip through his hand’s grasps; the same hands which held the fingers he now nervously picked at, scraping layer after layer of skin from beside his fingernails, resulting in small streams of blood. As the bell signaling the end of the school day rang, Charlie sluggishly threw together his papers and carelessly stuffed them into his backpack. As he left the classroom, he entered the hallways of the school he felt held the consistency of suppressed individuality, constantly humming with dishonesty, jealousy, and immorality. He watched as face after face coasted by, questioning whether or not any of these unnamed faces had experienced the worry and absolute fear he was currently experiencing. Still yet, faces passed by, oblivious to the inner demons that had begun to rise within chuck; blind to the insecurities and subconscious doubts fogging his conscience thinking. Regardless, he trudged on, out of the school hallways and into a blanket of frigid air, where he continued to walk; confused, uptight, and in a daze.
Marie, also a high school sophomore, but older than Charlie by 6 months, was in Chuck’s opinion the best friend he’d always hoped and wished for. To Charlie, Marie was complex; complex in such a way that it was beautiful, and although Marie would often debate Charlie’s labeling of her as “beautifully complex,” both Marie and Charlie alike knew that this complexity was a breath of fresh air in the pool of cookie-cutter personalities that seemingly enveloped their lives. For 8 months, Charlie and Marie built their friendship, overcoming the obstacles life haphazardly placed in their way; fighting and repairing conflicting flaws within themselves, so as to compromise the clashing of two opposite personalities: Marie with her fearless, often times careless attitude, driven completely by logical and Charlie with his understanding, over-analytic state-of-mind, driven solely by the knowledge of previous experiences, guided by over-sensitivity toward human emotion. These contrasting personalities undoubtedly kept their friendship together, as each one needed one another to balance their own personalities. For 8 months, Charlie and Marie had built a friendship Charlie cherished beyond imagination, yet over the course of the past few days, Charlie had felt this friendship was coming apart at the seams. The hugs, the conversations, and the simply gestures expressed by Marie did not burn with familiar feelings of interest, compassion, or even happiness, and to him, this signaled a rapid, negative chain of future events. Having never given up in his life, coupled by the determination surging through his bloodstream, he set out to change the course of events he believed would result from Marie’s sudden transition of nature that would otherwise result in an all but positive outcome.
Walking up the decrepit, decaying steps of his house, Charlie reached for the handle of the bright red door his mother ignorantly believed suited the rest of the house. Opening the door, reminiscent thoughts hit him. As he walked across the creaking wooden floor, images of Marie etched themselves among places she had occupied with him: the couch in the living room, where they shared bowls of popcorn, sipped caffeine-induced beverages, and watched cheesy comedy after sappy romance, the kitchen counter where he prepared his surprise dinner for Marie, drunk with shot nerves and the pressure to complete the dinner before she arrived. Her image appeared in the hallways as Charlie walked toward his bedroom, the hallways where Marie had playfully pushed him into the walls, shaking the windows and glass candle holders that hung throughout the hallway. She appeared atop his bed, where she spent long night after long night, hunched over the bed’s end, deep in conversation with Charlie, speaking of life plans, future wishes, or most often about nothing in particular. As he sat, watching as Marie’s figure walked about his room, smiling the smile he swore could cure even the worst of heart ache, a feeling of sincere concern developed within his chest, tugging on his heart strings with fervor. Holding his hand to his heart, Marie’s ghost finally disintegrated, absorbing into the white walls that held homemade posters and fictitious cartoon characters created by the girl who’s ghostly remains slowly fled from sight. Rubbing his eyes and timidly scratching the stubble that had formed abroad his chin, Charlie imitated a man exhausted from a long day’s work, only he was not physically exhausted, but emotionally drained by the thoughts he had begun to ponder. Marie’s impact on Charlie’s life continuously regenerated amidst his now idle train of thought. Over and over again, Charlie played a mental video montage in his mind, strewn with clips of the actions Marie had expressed toward him earlier in the week - the actions that had brought about his worrying, fear, and utter confusion. Laying scattered on his bed, Charlie stared at the stucco ceilings, contemplating the necessities needed to prevent his forecast of negativity. Reevaluating his relationship with Marie, he relived every aspect of what made their relationship a relationship matched by no one. Closing his now saline-encrusted eyes, he reflected on the conversation he had had with Marie, where she spoke of “not letting the unknown control,” where she assured him that with letting the unknown control him, worry would grab him by his neck and refuse to let go. And now, as he laid with his back positioned against the bed’s blue comforter, her assurance began to materialize as reality. Charlie began to realize that the worry she had spoke about had done exactly what she said it would. Unfortunately, Marie did not forewarn him that it would do so both secretively and hurriedly. Now realizing what had overcome his conscience thinking, he began to take the initiative to obliterate the chokehold he had found himself in, set upon him by unrelenting worry; worry originating from the unknown. Eventually opening his blood shot eyes, Charlie made a promise to himself. This promise was to free himself of this undesired worry currently making its home throughout his body. But would he do it? Would he eliminate the worry controlling all emotions rightfully belonging to him? Would he destroy the solitary component that has robbed him of all positivity, leaving only negativity to encompass his mind. Further yet, and even more importantly, if he did it, how would he do it?
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