I Can't Find The Words

• Alexandra Butt, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2015

Being a 15 year old with a mental disorder has never been easy. Aphasia has taken over my life, stealing my speech and ripping out my passion but I have a way to get out of this life and have an optimistic outlook on life. I just can’t find the words to say it. My name is Aspen Taylor and I’m 15 years old. I would never call my life extraordinary, because it isn’t. People call me a child genius but my most intelligent thoughts are trapped inside me. But what most people don’t know about me is my true passion is art. I draw to free me of our world. I draw to express emotion and explain concepts. But because of my disability I have been ripped apart by those who so willingly call themselves do-gooders when in reality they criticise and scrutinise everyone. And that’s the truth. Just like my story.

Ever since I was a little girl people would judge and make decisions about me as if I wasn’t existent. My parents are no help because they are divorced and unemployed. In fact their judgement hurts the most. Everyone at school thinks I’m a mistake. And my teachers continuously doubt my intelligence. But the only thing keeping me on this earth is my drawing pad. It contains my darkest secrets I’m afraid to write down and my happiest moments I ever encountered. Without it I would be dead.

The first day of high school and after skipping 3 years of primary school because the learning was far too elementary for my ability. Teardrops sting my eyes from crying. Although I don’t care about being disliked by my classmates, it still isn’t the most joyful thing to be a victim of their indecorous attitude they consistently show me. I understand people fear differences, but I don’t understand why they take their fear out on the people who are different. The mind and attitude of humans seems to still amaze those who have evolved past their point. And yet for a more evolved human being, I still can’t contain my feelings anymore. So I cry without pain, without noise, without emotion. And I stay crying for what seems like an eternity.

Life is only beautiful to the perceiver, who sees it for its true worth. I never understood the true pain, until I felt heart break; I never understood depression, until I tasted it. To a 15-year-old girl, who has no friends, their self-esteem is everything they have, and when their self-esteem is drawn onto a canvas, that canvas is all they have. But when you finally take the step to break out of your fear and release your artwork, you never truly prepare for the scrutiny you under go. And now that my life’s work has been torn down by judgment after judgment, I finally think the burden of life is too heavy for me to carry. I wish there was a way out, but there isn’t.