Young Writers Society

I think that not everyone wants to think they have a chance. Instead, they have this sort of doubt that overcomes their chance of wanting to live, and they begin to negatively or positively ask themselves what’s their worth. They have hopes and dreams, and they want to try to accomplish them, but doubt acts like a thick curtain, blocking out the possibilities to reach these hopes and dreams.

There are two groups: the ones who take their doubts and use them to motivate themselves or the ones who use their chances to ignore the doubts around them. I’m part of a secret group, one that ends up taking their doubt for granted and afraid of taking chances.

My trip to Harrisburg happened due to an occurrence of a letter and an affair. My dad was madly in love with my mom and believed my mom felt the same way. They married and had me as their only child. I was granted with my mom’s green eyes and my dad’s brown hair. My height was lacked compared to my friends but I made it up with my athletic ability in different sports.

The affair happened because my mom got a little too cozy with our neighbor. How my dad found out was through a letter of pictures taken with my mom and the guy. When he had told me about it, I couldn’t believe it. I trusted my mom. I told her secrets. I expected her to be the normal mom, the one who to give me advice for boys or to buy me dresses. I never expected her to cheat on my dad.

To this day, I never once believed my mom. She tried to apologize and explain to my dad several times but it seemed like their marriage was already over. I moved with my dad and left my mom a month after the affair had happened.

The ride to Harrisburg, which wasn’t far from where we were living originally, was tense for the first few miles. Then my dad decided to make some light conversation about what I had plans for in the future or what the school might be like there. We moved before I started my freshman year of high school and I could shake off the feeling of being like an alien.

I was worried that my friends would forget me and only remembered as a girl who was a class president through middle school. I wanted to go back home, not to my mom, but to my friends. I didn’t want my dad to baby me into saying that everything would be fine.

I needed to go home but I didn’t have a plan or anything. This was just a daydream that I was becoming too lazy to follow forward with. So, I decided I’ll leave when I need to leave.

Harrisburg wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It kind of reminded me a bit of Chicago with a small town feel mixed into it. Shops lined the road and further down the street loomed the business buildings. I had mixed feelings about heights and when looking at these buildings, I felt dizzy and small.

My dad turned down several roads before we reached our new two-story house. It had peeling yellow paint around the outside, wooden stairs that lead to the front door, a stone walkway, dead and yellowing grass, driveway where we could park our car. I began to feel unsure about this place as my dad drove into the driveway.

“This is our new home. Help me bring in these boxes and once we’re done, we’ll go get ice cream,” my dad promised as he got out. I stayed in the car a little bit before hopping out. Bringing in the boxes only took an hour but unpacking them seemed to take the whole night away from me. As promised, my dad take me out to get ice cream and we chatted a bit, but it felt kind of forced. Like, he was trying to make me realize that he wasn’t doing alright while hiding it behind our chats.

I decided to leave Harrisburg after my dad had told me he wanted me to be homeschooled, a week after we moved.

“I think it’s for the best. I don’t want you messing with what the dangers of boys or gangs out there so I’m going to teach you what I know.”

I didn’t want to be homeschooled. I needed a life where I can explore, make friends, and enjoy what it could bring me. But, I didn’t reason with him or his decision. That night, I made a plan. Since I didn’t have any cash, I would take some of my dad’s money and use it to buy a train ticket. I also needed to change my appearance, in case there were missing child posters, which meant cutting my hair shorter.

So, I went into the bathroom and took a pair of scissors, snipping away inches after inches of my hair until I had a bob. Most of the brown chunks were in the sink or on the floor and the ends of my hair looked like I took a chainsaw to it. But, I looked reasonably different. While my dad was sleeping, I grabbed a few twenty dollar bills and some coins. I then decided I should write him a note so I did, explaining what I was doing and why.

Heading back upstairs, I began packing until I couldn’t pack anymore inside of my bag. Grabbing my hat, I took one look in the mirror and nodded. No turning back now.

I left the house and ran towards the train station, now not afraid of the chance it might hold.