This is my first shot at something more angsty than my normal stuff.  I was in an I-hate-the-world-my-life-is-going-nowhere type of mood a couple weeks ago and got an idea about 12:30 in the morning when I couldn't sleep.  I wrote the base part of it then and was going to type it and come back and edit and add to it.  However, I've since lost my mood.  So that's why the tone changes about halfway through.  But I like parts of it and I thought I'd post it anyway, to see what y'all thought.

    I've barricaded myself in my room, door locked, a chair underneath the doorknob so no one can get in.  The only light in the room comes from the small bands of spring sunlight filtering through the drawn shades.  I try to close them tighter; I don't want, don't need any of it; I can't stand it anymore.

    I know I scared my mom, bursting through the front door in the middle of the day and sprinting upstairs the way I did.  She pounded on the door for nearly ten minutes, yelling my name.

    "Connie?  Connie?  What's wrong sweetie?  Why aren't you at practice?  Connie?  Let me in!"

    After ten minutes she stopped and raced back downstairs.  I can hear her frantically punching buttons on the telephone.  Probably calling Eden Hall to find out if something horrible happened today.

    I know I scared her, but this is the only place I have the space to think.  School was too public, even my dorm room wouldn't work; Julie could get in or one of the guys would break the door down or or something ridiculous like that.  I can just hear them now, "Why'd you run out of class like that Connie?  Why are you skipping practice Connie?", everyone looking so concerned and saying, "Let us help you Connie."

    No.

    They can't help me anymore.

    I can't let them.

    I try to pinpoint the exact moment when I changed; I can't.  All I see are flashes of what I am, interspersed with what I used to be.  But it has to be somewhere in there.

    I used to be Connie the Invincible.  Back when we were still District 5, before the Junior Goodwill Games, before the Eden Hall mess, before…everything.

    Back then I was just as tough as the guys and everyone knew it.  I was the tomboy, just one of the guys; but taller than all the boys and ready to take on anything.  I could take care of myself, your little brother and your half cousin if he showed up.  The guys all had my back; I knew they were looking out for me, but I didn't need it.  They knew that too.  I liked that feeling; it made me feel…powerful…unshakable…like there was something in me that mattered.

    Guy was the first one to notice I was a girl.  He probably knew it before I did.  The way he looked at me, with those deep eyes of his, I always felt like those eyes could see all the way into me, to who I really was.  It scared me at first.  Then I realized he was seeing someone different than everyone else was seeing, including myself.  He was seeing someone who was…a girl who was…pretty.  Beautiful, even…despite the fact I was still as tough as he was, despite that I didn't need him to defend me or that I knew a good shove would remind him if he forgot.  He made me feel special, like I was worth something…

    So then it was Connie and Guy and I was happy and felt for the first time like me, like I was really me and no one else.

    After than I began to notice other guys look at me like that; guys at school, guys on other teams at games, even Luis when he first joined the team.  And I liked when they looked at me; I felt beautiful.  Except when they looked past or below my face; that was grounds for a swift kick to the ass.  Guy still looked at me with those eyes and I always felt beautiful and comfortable around him.  But I liked that it wasn't just him; other guys noticed me, thought I was pretty too.

    Then I noticed that things were changing.  Guy and Luis didn't get along as well as they could have.  I told myself it had nothing to do with me, but in the back of my mind I always wondered.  And Charlie warning me during our last game with Iceland.  I know they were gunning for me; they always do.  I'm the girl with the braid, the only way I could have made it more obvious would be to wear a pink jersey.  I'm like the target for the other teams, who turn it into a game, "Who can pick off the girl?"  But I've handled them before and I'll keep on doing so.  Why warn me now?

    I have to admit, Dwayne's cowboy stunt was amusing.  The look on Coach Bombay's face was priceless, not to mention the rest of the arena.  But I didn't need it.  Sure, I would have gotten squashed, but it was my own damn fault for staying in that corner too long.  I should have kicked the puck out of the way and gotten my butt out of the line of fire.  But I didn't.  And Dwayne saved me.  But if it had been anyone else on the team, he wouldn't have pulled that stunt.  Even if it was Kenny, who was smaller than me, and would have literally been crushed.  If it was anyone else, they would have gotten knocked down, picked themselves back up and gone after than kid and taken their own shot at him.  But, no, not Connie.

    All of a sudden, I wasn't one of the guys anymore.

    Somewhere in the middle of all this, I'd lost the real me.

    And now things have gotten worse.  I'm the shortest on the team now, even Julie and Ken are taller than me.  And now the tough Connie that I used to be, fearless, ready to take on anyone or anything, has disappeared.  She's been replaced with a wimp who can't even defend herself anymore; she's gotten so used to everyone else doing it for her.

    Like during that stupid early morning game with the Varsity.  I'd never been so angry in my life; I can still hear my voice yelling, "Let me at 'em, Charlie!"  He didn't even try to hold me back.  But I just stood there, hearing in the back of my head a voice that sounded an awful lot like Charlie or Guy or Adam or Fulton, or maybe all of them put together, saying in one voice, "Connie, you can't do it.  He'll kill you.  He's twice the size of you; don't be stupid."  So I skated off, hating myself, what I'd become, hearing that jerk's laughter ringing in my ears.

    Somehow, I'd gone from the tough girl, fearless and daring, to someone I couldn't even recognize anymore.  Someone always dependent on someone else, always needing help or advice or…something.  Julie was now the tough girl and now, now I was the pretty one, who spent time brushing her hair and worrying about her make-up.  The ironic thing was, I hated the way I looked now; I could barely stand to see myself in the mirror.

    Maybe I saw thing whole thing coming.  Maybe I saw what I was becoming, saw the monster I was turning into.  Maybe that's why I broke up with Guy.  Maybe I blamed him for all of this.  If he hadn't looked at me, with those eyes…I'd still be the tough girl, still one of the guys, ready to take on the world.  But I know it wasn't Guy's fault.  If he hadn't looked at me, eventually someone else would have. 

    I wish there was something I could do, to bring back that little girl who thought she was invincible.  But all I can do right now it sit, curled up in the small space between my bed and my wall, hiding from the world.  By now, school is over, practice will have started and the whole team will have heard about my little incident, skipping out on class.  I didn't mean for it to happen, but I knew if I continued to sit there, I'd break down or freak out or do something ridiculous.  I mean, I was reacting to reading A Doll's House, for God's sake.  You can't get any stranger than that.

    But, nevertheless, something about it got me thinking.  About what happened to me and how I ended up like I am, so unhappy and…alone.  That's the part that really gets me.  I mean, physically, I'm never alone.  I sit in classes surrounded by people, I eat meals with my friends, I have practice with them, I do homework with them, and I live in a dorm room with Julie; I'm never alone.  But I can't help feeling that way.

    "Connie?"

    Guy's at my door.  Orion or the team probably sent him.  And he doesn't sound happy.  It's hard to tell if he's angry or worried or both.

    "Connie?  What's wrong?  If you let me in, I can help." He tells me through the door.

    "No!" I shout at the door.  "No one can help me with this.  Especially you!" 

    Silence.  I think I hurt him with that comment; the silence continues.

    "Connie!" He finally shouts angrily.  Yeah, that one definitely hurt him.  "Don't make me take the door off the hinges!"  He's done that before; when I locked myself in my bathroom after we'd had a fight.  He took the door of the hinges and dragged me out of the bathroom and made me talk to him.  But he won't do that this time; I won't let him.  I can't let him.

    "You can't!" I yell back.  "The hinges are on the wrong side of the door!"

    I can almost see him looking at the door and realizing I'm right.

    "Fine." His voice is quieter now, I almost have to strain to hear him.  "I'm going to sit here then, until you open the door.  Your mom gave me a sandwich for you; I know you didn't eat much at lunch.  So if you get hungry, or if you want to talk, I'll be sitting here."  I hear him settle himself on the floor.

    I'm not sure how to respond to that.  I certainly didn't see it coming.  I thought he'd pound on the door a bit, maybe try to knock it down or threaten to call the fire department to get in through my window or something.  But he didn't even try to turn the doorknob. 

    Part of me wants to open the door, to sit down and explain everything to him, to ask him to help me figure out who I am.  He's the only one who knows me, the real me.  Not the wimpy shell of a person I've become.  But I know I can't.  That would be continuing to be the dependent, needy Connie that I loathe.  I need to figure this out for myself.  If only I knew how.

    I'm starting to wonder if I've always been weak like this, and that's why I've ended up where I am.  If I really was strong, this shouldn't have happened, right?  I should be able to be strong and be pretty at the same time.  I shouldn't have to let everyone take care of me because I'm pretty.  When I was little I was never worried about messing up my hair or tearing my jeans; I'm still not.  I just can't figure out how to tell everyone that. 

    I've now started a list of all the things about me I hate.  Needy, wimpy, reliant, scared…the list could go on for pages, but unfortunately, all those words mean the same thing to me.  They mean I've changed, I can't take care of myself, I'm relying on everyone else to take care of me…again, the list goes on.

    It scares me that all this started because of guys.  This can't go one; something's got to give.  I've got to start making changes or I may as well just start being one of those girls who measures her worth by what guy she's with.

    I don't think I'm like that yet…I hope not.  I mean, I liked having a boyfriend, who doesn't?  I've been single since Guy and I broke up at the beginning of the school year; I've gone out with a couple of guys, but whoever I'm looking for hasn't shown up yet.  But I'm doing alright.  Well…having a nervous breakdown in the middle of school probably doesn't constitute as alright, but I'm not quite there yet.

    But I've got to start taking some serious steps here.  I'm not going to spend the rest of my life like this.  I can't go off to college and still be dependent on the Ducks for everything.  The problem is , I don't know where or how to start.

    Now I hear another voice inside my head, only this one doesn't sound like Charlie or Guy or any of the Ducks.  It sounds like…me.  "The beginning." It tells me.  "Start at the beginning."  How appropriate, since the beginning is sitting right outside my door.

    The more I think about it though, the more it makes sense.  Guy's known me for ages; he knew me back when I was Connie the Invincible.  Even though he was the first one, he never made me feel like I couldn't handle anything; he knew I could.  Come to think of it, he's still like that.  Never once has he unnecessarily warned me, or tried to save me, and while he would stick up for me if the occasion called for it, he would always back down and let me put in my two cents worth.  That's the way he's always been, and I won't be surprised if he stays that way always.

    Damn him.  Here I was thinking I was going to make progress and now I've gotten myself nowhere except to realize that Guy's as good a guy as he's always been.  Fat lot of good that does me.

    But maybe this is too big to handle on my own…maybe this is something I do need help with.  And I know if I'm going to go back to being the real Connie, the Connie who can take on the world, I need to start small.  Baby steps, maybe. 

    I get up from my hiding spot and make my way to my door.  I push the chair aside and stare at the door.  Is there someone on the other side who can help me find the girl I used to be?  Or is there just someone who will continue to protect me from everything I don't need protecting from, including myself?

    I take a deep breath and open the door.