Ivy in the Street

Hey Guys :)

This is a story I wrote a year ago, long before I knew about wattpad! I wasn't sure whether to upload it because my writing has changed a lot since now, and my views on it are different - although i promised myself i wouldn't give up on this story, i'm close to, so having your views would be great, to either encourage me or...not :P I have done 47 pages on word, which are 5 chapters (long chapters lol) but im not going to put all of it up, im going to put up to where the story is actually okay.

My other story, Love Life and Loss is not going too well, so hopefully this story will get more views and comments and votes? I hope soo! Pleaaaaase, pleaaase, comment and if you like it vote :D If no one seems to like this, i'll just give up. you probably guessed i dont hav much confidence in what i write :L

Okay, i'll shut up now, but enjoooyy ;) And comment and vote <3 <3 Emzeeey <3 <3

Chapter 1

I may seem like a normal girl, but as much as I try to be, I am unimaginably different. Growing up as everyone knows is extremely tough; but on the plus side you don't have to worry about picking up fragments of mysteries, and for that matter trouble too.

  I am a psychic; not a fake one that guesses and pretends, not even like Derren Brown (although I do a lot of his tricks, even if they involve influencing people) I can understand what people feel. Sound weird? You haven't even heard half of it... 

  I haven't always had my so called "gift". I didn't wake up as a psychic; it just gradually came to me, over the time of puberty. At the age of twelve I could fully master it, control it, direct it at a certain person, and discover certain things; and it was  then when I first learnt how to control people's minds (as long as it didn't involve harming themselves). Yet I faced a big problem. I couldn't do it if I was angry. I had to be calm. And that's really inconvenient. A lot of my life I spend angry.  

  This is more of a cumulative diary of events that took place in my life. I don't know the exact dates, and have had to improve slightly, but this collection of stories makes up my life, and I have found out too many secrets that should have been left secrets. Let's just say, if I could change all that happened in those few years of my life, I would.

   "Good Morning! Good Morning! Good Morning! Good Mor-" my alarm clock sang.

  "Yeah, yeah," I said to it

  "-ing! Good Morning! Good Morning! Goo-"

   "SHUT UP!" and with that I punched it. It flew off the table, and smashed, the cogs falling everywhere. The tape carried on playing for a bit and then gave up with a groan. I sat up, still not fully awake, and looked around my room. It was small and cold, and the huge clusters of damp on the ceiling left the white paint peeling off. The wallpaper of my room curled at the edges and it was discoloured to make recognisable shape, pattern, wording or picture.

  Being in a care home isn't all that easy but you've just got to keep buggering on. Nothing can be fair in life and everyone gets a taste of bitter reality.

  My life is a bit more bitter than most. I think all I've had in life is reality. I've had no other home other than the care home. And yeah, it is better than being homeless but I still really just want to be in some nice comfy home where my mum or dad can hug me until I can't breathe.                                                                                                          

  Talking about breathing, I've often tried to kill myself. But whenever I'm going to jump off that bridge, drive that knife into my heart, take those pills, I just can't do it. (Oh and, this care home is a very good care home, I just can sneak out things easily. Do not fret.) Anyway, something tells me no. Maybe it's the fact of my "gift". I guess I'd prefer not to have this "gift", but maybe it's what stops me - the very reason I'm alive now. And is me being alive a good thing? I don't know. I simply don't know. But there's one thing that I count myself lucky for as I am in a care home. I'm not scared of death. I would embrace it if there wasn't that feeling inside me telling me to stop.