The thirty-minute ride to school is one of the main times I spend thinking about my life. Worrying about the situation with my mom, not having any idea how my dad is going to continue paying for her treatments at the mental facility she is in. I question a lot. Did they get her back on her meds? Will my dad be able to continue to afford this? Or will they be forced to divorce, so that the state will pay for her instead of dad?
These are daily worries that go through my mind, all very likely to be true. Sometimes I end up crying, which leaves me spending time in my car trying to calm down and fix my make-up so that people don't see me this way.
Today was one of those days. No one but my dad knows my situation. Not even my best friend, Emily, or my boyfriend, Will. So I try my best to put my mask back on before I go into school.
Today, though, I just sit there and spend extra time staring at my tear-streaked, blotchy, red face in the mirror. Who is this girl? It's not the same girl that walks into that school building, walking through those school halls laughing with friends and being goofy. This isn't the same girl that gets happy and full of excitement when her dad gets home from work and carries in Little Ceasars and a Redbox movie (we especially like to watch horror movies) to have a daddy-daughter date night in the living room (as I cower behind him during the scary parts).
I feel like I'm two different people. At times, I'm happy and carefree, having fun with friends and my dad and dog, laughing and being the biggest goofball around. Then there is my other side, maybe my true side, the part of me that looks in the mirror or at my life and bursts into tears. The one that curls up in my bed at night and cries until it becomes my lulliby and makes me fall asleep.
That is who sits in this little Kia Soul now, staring at her sorry self as she cries her entire life out of existence. The one who suffers from depression and anxiety, the one who can't show that side to anyone because she is afraid that whoever sees it will no longer love her.
Sound kinda sad and dark to you? Me too.
I finally snap back to the present and find my purse in the backseat floorboard. I dig around until I find my make-up remover wipes and begin to clean up the mess that defines that dark, secret side of me. I then redo my make-up and compose myself again, until I am satisfied enough with the girl who stares back at me in the mirror. She is the one that my friends know. The one with the fun personality that hides what's inside.
Finally, I force myself out of the car to face the day ahead.