Prisoner to the Grind, S. G. Ricketts [best novels for teenagers .TXT] 📗

Look back over the past 9, 12 months or so. It's crazy how fast life can change. One moment, you're having fun with life, with friends, worrying about what college you're going to get into, worrying about what dress to wear to prom, worrying about what guy likes you. You're focused on your sport, or on your grades, or on your social life. You're still plugged into church, going mainly for your friends but being fed at the same time. You have a connection with Him, and you can talk the talk.

Then, you watch yourself start to fall apart. The horizon has changed. The landscape is different. All of a sudden, you are out of high school. You're holding your diploma. 18 years have flown by, and your mother is crying in the stands as you cross that stage. All of a sudden, with one sheet of paper, you're free. Your mind changes. Grades don't matter anymore. Sports are over, and summer has begun. You have your summer flings, you get your heart broken. You have your crazy times with friends, you have your moments breaking the rules. There is something bittersweet and pungent about friends at 2 a.m. with no one knowing that you're missing from your bed. Something dangerously beautiful about being in the arms of a boy, whether he loves you or not. For that moment, the world is sparkling above you and there isn't a care in the world. You are living the life, waking up late, staying up late, tanning at the pool. You are watching kids during the day and seeing the life and vibrancy that explodes from their bodies, and thinking about the time when you were there. You are smelling the smell of sunscreen, feeling the warmth of the sun, tasting the sand in your mouth from evenings on hot volleyball courts with friends. You taste the bitterness of lost friendships and the pang of friends' pain. But you are free...

Free and dying. You dance through the summer on corruption's wings. You flaunt your heart on false confidence, praying no one sees through it. You keep letting your guard down, hoping they see through it. You blast music through your car in an attempt to drown out your thoughts. You pray that all your toughness makes all the pain go away. In the summer sun, your outside is glowing and your inside is slowly drying up. You've seen a friend starve their life away on white dust. You've given your heart in pieces to guys who couldn't care less. You flaunt your body in an attempt to catch the big fish, and land guppies instead. You put everything into those little girls, hoping that you can make some sort of impact, but feel like you're unravelling anyway. You see a friend bounce from lap to lap as she searches for some kind of love, or attention, or feeling. You watch a friend's relationship float on, tied together only by the strings of duty. Tied together by the need to have someone. You see an 18-year old married man flirting with other girls. You see pregnant girls hurting. You see your parents hurting, your sister hurting. And you pray that you aren't like that.

Until you die. Until your heart is ripped out, and you look back inside yourself and see the faces of everyone you pitied. You see your friend tripping on acid, and the mirror shows you the endless nights of rum. You see your friend gambling with love, and the mirror shows you the lineup of your own past. You see your outward toughness, and the mirror shows you the starving girl. You see your uncaring heart distribution, and the mirror shows you the empty hole you've left. You see your tanned, toned body, and the mirror shows you the ugly truth, the meat stand. You see that relationship bound by the barest of threads, and the mirror shows your craving for attention. You see the man with his girls, and the mirror shows your God, waiting. You see people hurting, and the mirror shows your forgotten reminders. And you pray that you won't die.

There is a scar on your hip. A heart of irony. Carved with a blade, every edge takes just a little pain off your hear. A reminder of your hurt. A beautiful symbol of your ugliness. It is the pathetic remanant of your past life of blood. It is the pain you can't inflict on yourself and the cry for resolution. It is the sign to the world and the shame of your soul. It is the one rotten spot showing from a rotten core. It is your scarlet letter, your star of David. It is the window to your soul when your eyes lie. It is the truth when your lips won't speak. It is the testimony of the dying. It is proof that you have nothing left.

And then you find hope. Not in the God that you are scared of, but in an angel dressed in the barest of threads. You find hope, when you are running away. When you have hit bottom and you are hiding in your rags. When you sit around in your work clothes and lettuce-covered shoes, smelling like food and burning grease. When the scars on your heart and across your body and on your mind are strongest. When you are running from everything you first were so excited about...then you find hope.

And suddenly, you aren't free anymore.

But then, what is freedom? Is freedom the chance to dance around the rules like some kind of heathen ritual? Is freedom the ability to fly across the world with nothing tying you down? Is freedom cutting all ties with everyone who cares about you? Is freedom watching those you care for die around you, while you done your mask and join in? Is that freedom? Is freedom really that chained? That every path of "freedom" leads to the same pit of despair. That every road leads not to Rome but to a lake of burning hatred. That this freedom leaves you with empty eyes, empty hearts, empty futures, and empty relationships? Is that what freedom is?

Suddenly, you realize that all along, you didn't want to be free. You were happier back when you had everything planned around you and everything chained you down. You were happier then...and you pray that you can get that again. Slowly, you allow yourself to be chained again. Slowly, you tame the beast that has grown inside, the animal that is terrified and angry within the walls of your mind. First one piece, the piece to trust a hug. Then, the piece to hold on to a smile. To make a difference. The piece that uncovers your worth...and before you know it, your chains aren't chains but gold and silver binding you back in to life. The mirror looks inside and sees change. You look outside and realize that everything you once looked for is gone, and you have everything you need.

Healing takes time. Chains still chafe. But freedom is never free, and you don't realize what you will miss until it's gone. You have been thrown into a world of responsibility, and you are faced with your future on your own. The pieces of your heart may be gone, but it can heal. The angel you found heals it, and you heal him. With your chains, you are free to follow the rules again. You are free to be yourself, but you are free to follow the path that is carved out. You can say no to the cliche of passing yourself from relationship to relationship. You can pass over the numbing power of a drink. You can be free from the depression that has caught so many of your friends. Your captivity has given you something to lean on when you're weak instead of letting you fall out of the sky with your freedom. You have found your god through your angel's love. You have felt him beside you as you see people heal. You see the good now, not the depravity. You see the hurting and know that you are one of them but are not like them. You don't have the freedom to fly deeper down that road.

Your captivity has given you your life. And as you give up your freedom, you can feel your scars healing. You have found arms to hold you. You have found someone to catch your tears. You have people that would give everything they have for you. You find people who are caught like you, but freer than you've ever been. You feel the sun on your face again, and you smell the crisp smell of water and bbq. You can twirl in the middle of the road in the rain and it doesn't feel like tears of acid on your skin, but kisses of life. The cloud that was over you is gone, and everything is new.

All you had to do was let yourself be chained.

Publication Date: 01-28-2010

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