Samantha M10A Creative Writing

I sat in a little ball with my arms around my knees, holding them as tightly and as close to my chest as I possibly could. I could hear the fighting, the screaming, the gunshots in the distance, but I was supposed to wait here. So I waited. I kept tapping my foot incessantly. As I sat awaiting my doom, our doom. My back was against a big oak tree. There were hardly any leaves on the tree, there were only a few that had not fallen yet. I looked up at the sky and saw clouds of smoke. Even in the dark they were visible. I had a large gash on my knee from my fall earlier today. It was starting to scab, so I started to pick at it. It helped relieve some of the anxiety I was having. A small amount of blood started to ooze out from the spot of the scab I had just picked. I watched the blood begin to slither down my leg. The gash didn't even hurt. Through all that I had endured these past two months it almost felt enjoyable, therapeutic even. This was the least amount of pain I had felt i

I often stress about life, the past, the present, the what ifs of the future. Am I pretty enough? Am I skinny enough? Am I kind enough? Am I witty enough? Am I sexy enough? Am I smart enough? Will I move like I want to? Will I graduate school? Will I ever find a lasting love? Will I ever get married? Will I get divorced? Will I get a good job? Will I be homeless? Will I be a loser? Will I ever have kids? Will I be a good mom? Will I travel the world? Am I a good friend? Am I a good partner? Will I be happy? And then I remember just as quickly as I forget : I am the driver and I can drive anywhere I want to in my life. I choose whether I want to be happy, I choose my partner, I choose my career, I choose whether I move, or travel, I choose how I feel, I choose my life, no one else. I am an adult now and I am creating my life. I don't have to sit in the backseat anymore.