The Unexpected: The Worst

Sometimes things come our way that we may never understand.
We wake up every morning and don't think about what could happen, good or bad.
We don't expect what happens.
It sucks. 
Because what we do expect is our dreams to come true.
Our true love to come riding to our rescue.
We expect the very best in life.
But what I've come to realize is that sometimes,
we have to expect the worst.
Because when we expect the worst, it can only go up from there.
Sometimes life takes you down so hard, the only thing you can expect is the worst.
But, wait.
Why would we want to expect the worst, when we could expect the very best?
What a lot of us won't admit, is that life,
really, truly, sucks.
We fight with our friends.
We lose the ones we love.
Our dreams become only that. Dreams.
But what we get out of that, is the worst.
The bottom.
Emptiness.
So, what do we do with the unexpected in life?
The car accidents.
Flunking a final at school.
Making mistakes we promised we never would.
I'm not an expert, but I have a mom who is.
The worst is sometimes the best place we can be.
The worst is what motivates us.
It drives us.
Because we don't want to be at the bottom anymore.
We want our dream, and we want it to become a reality.
So we take the worst,
and we make it our best.
And by best, I don't mean perfection.
I mean we give it our best.
We give it our all.
We take the pain from our car accident and let it motivate us to become the best we can with pain.
"What doesn't kill us, only makes us stronger."
And tonight, I can attest to that.
Because when my life seemed to be at its best,
it took a turn for the worst.
And at my worst,
I've found the bottom of my heart.
And at the bottom of my heart is the unexpected that doesn't matter.
Because if we always expect the unexpected,
we'll never be our best.

Repair

I did it once, I did it twice. The third time didn't make it right. 

Two good friends, one bad choice. Led me to the end of my voice. 

One more shot, two more laughs. Soon this night would pass. 

I saw no harm, I felt no fear. Didn't listen to the voice whispering inside my ear. 

Passed out on the couch, my alarms blaring loud, don't make me get up, don't make a sound. 

I trudge my way with my keys in my hands, two hours of sleep, this toast tastes bland. 

I turn the ignition, car into drive and make my way to my lesson to die. 

Literal, metaphorical, whatever you please. This hangover was the last dance for me. 

I cannot explain the break in my heart. Knowing the choice I made ruined my art. 

I slammed on the brakes, as the car behind me did. This time, it didn't end with a skid.  

But stubbornness came and I gave it my all, leading me to my most treacherous fall. 

I cannot perform and I cannot compete. This sling tied to my arm, I feel my defeat. 

As time passes by, I say I am fine. I am fine. But I lie, and lie. 

Soon it'd be known I screwed up my dream. This was much worse than I thought it had seemed. 

A tear in my shoulder and a disc in my neck, oh how I wish I could change that car wreck. 

Pills and stretches hoping to relieve the pain, I keep pushing and pushing, feeling the strain. 

I did it once. I did it twice. The third time didn't make it right. 

Crushing my dreams and leaving me with despair, I can only wish what it would take to repair. 

I leave the fourth, the fifth, and the sixth time alone, 

this time my heart will take me home.

Age

Twenty.

I wake up on a bright summer day to notifications from social media sites.

Excited to open them, my heart drops.

"Go to hell, you transgender piece of shit."

I scramble to look for a name, something to tell me who this is from.

Who would send me this, and what in spite of.

Nineteen.

I wake up in the morning and take my daily medications.

I go to therapy and talk about my daily life.

Try to mend the things that has broken my heart.

But I laugh and I smile as I take the floor for competition every weekend.

Eighteen.

I'm finally an adult.

I can do what I want.

I can be out late.

"Want a drink?"

Where am I?

Who am I?

Seventeen.

I wake up at 6:30 AM every morning to go to high school.

Hoping that I won't get another nasty look from some person I don't even know.

My dad's coming home soon..

That should make it all better, right?

Sixteen.

The big birthday.

But it isn't so big.

I'm trapped.

I'm being abused and my emotions are lost.

"NO!!"

I scream into the phone,

Yelling at my father trying to tell me who to be.

Rehearsal after rehearsal.

Another punch to the face.

And another..

Fifteen.

I'm diagnosed with clinical depression.

"Here, take this pill every morning. Come back if it doesn't work."

I wearily walk into my home and set up for my party.

Aching inside and what has been revealed to me.

"Hi. I'm Chloe. I'm here because I self harm."

I say to a lady I don't even know.

Fourteen.

He's gone.

Taken.

I'm in the desert trying to understand where he is and how he got there.

Dad, where did you go?

I look up at the stars and can't help but think,

God, how could you do this to me?

How could ANY of you do this to me?

Thirteen.

I practice my new instrument in my room.

Hoping to become something out of nothing.

Life was easy.

Friends were still around.

Life hadn't become that complicated yet.

Twelve.

I ride my new bike down the street and glow with happiness as my dad comes home from work.

I tell my mom about what I saw and what I did today.

How it poured rain but I still made it to the recreation center.

Because I could do it.

I knew I could.

Eleven.

Blink.

Ten.

Hold my breath.

Nine.

Something is wrong with me.

Why do I feel so different?

Eight.

I'm being dunked under water for this religion I don't understand.

That I don't know much about.

Seven.

Help.

Six.

I run outside in the bright morning to see my best friends.

Five.

My mom does my hair and makes me breakfast.

She tells me that I tend to get grumpy when I haven't eaten.

Four.

Things are simple. 

Life is easy.

All I have to do is play and be happy.

Three.

Blink.

Two.

I'm becoming part of this family.

One.

I open my eyes.

The day of my birth.

I never expected to be where I am today.