Along With Joy

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"Don't worry, I love you, I won't hurt you." Those were the words I heard before losing my virginity.
I'm Liza Marie McKinley, the daughter of a depressed lawyer and an overly giddy house wife. I have an older brother, Jamie, who talks to me on occasion and a little sister, Tiana, who never seems to stop talking. That's how I would describe my family, but when someone asks me to describe myself, I go blank. My reply is always, "I'm not sure..." But if I was to say what was really on my mind, I would be saying that Liza Marie McKinley is a depressed loser who smokes pot more than she talks to her family. She's the type of girl who wears oversized sweaters and the skinniest jeans possible. She likes bright red lipstick and has three piercings on each year. She loves playing the piano and listening to indie rock music. That's what I would say, but I don't want people to know me because no one would like me, no one.

The first time I saw Dylan was in my freshman year of high school. I couldn't help it, I would stare at him during Spanish. Like actually stare; my eyes enlarged and I might have even drooled a bit. I watched how his head bent into his shoulder as he wrote down notes and how his eyelashes moved as he blinked. I found out that he was left handed and loved soccer since he never wore anything but cleats. I noticed that his mouth was slightly crooked and that he had a small beauty mark next to his left eyebrow. All that time, I didn't realize his cheeks weren't naturally that pink.

"Honey... Wake up! It's time for breakfast!!" I tried my best to block my mother's piercing voice from entering my ears, as always I failed.
"Mommm! It's Saturday!" I basically growled at her. She just smiled and shook it off, dragging me out of bed and into the bathroom.
As I trudged into the kitchen for breakfast, my little sister attacked me with her little but super energetic body.
"Liza! Liza! Look at my bee! I made it out of my pancake!" She screamed into my chest.
"Wow! It's really cool..." I fake smiled at her. She took that as a signal to continue talking about her process of forming the circular pancake into a bee. But thankfully she was off of me as soon as Jamie walked in. He was two years older than me and a lot more friendly. Tiana jumped right into his arms as he walked through the kitchen doorway. He smiled at her and nodded at me.
"Jamie! Good morning beautiful!" My mother was always saying stuff like that, "You can sit next to your father right there, okay?" He nodded and gently pushed Tiana away. Dad didn't acknowledge him at all, so Jamie didn't either. Jamie acted like the perfect person, sporty and smart, kind, funny, but I can see right through him, he has no idea where he's going with his life. But I do admit that my brother is all of the above.
"Sugar, why don't you talk to your son?" My mother asked Dad. Dad is one of the most boring people you can meet. He's a lawyer who spends a lot of his time in a therapists office, obviously his shrink sucks because he has not gotten better at all. He might be getting more depressed actually. My father likes nothing, I guess that's where I got that from, and spends most of his free time reading non fiction books that he never seems to be interested in. Sometimes I wonder how he and my mother "fell in love" since he rarely ever talks to anyone, not even his family. But I understand that, and so I back him up. Sometimes I feel like my words won't contribute anything so why waste my energy talking?
"Dad talks through his mind, Mom," I say. I smile at my father and he tries to smile back.
I first found out my father was depressed two years ago, when I saw the pills. I didn't know what they meant at first, but after some research on depression I started to understand the disorder better. That's when I started wondering if I too was depressed. For a little while I denied it, I was just a twelve year old girl, but after weighing all the symptoms I let myself believe it. I guess some people would ridicule me for being depressed. "You have a perfect life. Your parents are financially stable, you have food to eat, shoes on your feet, and an education. Grow up." I'm grateful for everything I have, I swear, but what about a social life? People out there hang out with their friends on the weekends while I sit at our piano and play Beethoven. Seriously speaking, no one liked me back then. I didn't know why I was considered weird. It seemed like anyone who didn't dress like everyone else or like mainstream things, was a loser. But I was the loser of the losers. No other "loser" would talk to me because it would hurt their popularity. When everyone went outside for lunch I would sit by myself in the cafeteria or go up to the library because no one would see me there. So when I stumbled upon the potheads of middle school towards the end of my seventh grade year, I couldn't be happier. They asked me if I had money, which I did, and quickly invited me into their group. I paid for a lot of their pot considering that I smoked only once in the seventh grade. But I would do anything to have friends, this did not help my depression.
So in the eighth grade I decided to see what I was spending so much money on. I gave marijuana a few more tries, and sort of grew an addiction. For a little while everyday, I actually felt happy. But every night afterwards I felt worse. I guess what kept me going was the idea of the period of happiness after a fresh joint. So that's how I became a pothead.