Issues

1

In my case, I believe habits can be addictions.

No matter what it is. As in biting your nails, or hurting yourself in a way you didn't even know was self-harm.

I look out my window as I see we've finally landed in my hometown.

It's been almost 4 years since I left. Where did I go? This type of boarding school is for 'bad kids'.

Something happened to me when I was around the age of 14. My parents thought I did that shit for attention. So they sent me away.

They own a huge business. You can say I'm blessed to be born into a wealthy family.

Boy were you wrong.

They don't really give me cash. They make me work.

When in every case it isn't so bad. Showing your kids how to be independent isn't bad, but when there's a need for it, not even giving a dime fucking sucks.

I'm straightforward when it comes to things, or even in conversations I can come off as mean when I'm not trying to be.

Being raised in a family where you show the slightest anger can literally blow up in my family.

So that's why I found a new way.

Hurting myself.

Cutting myself.

I did say I believe habits can be addictions.

"I'm home!" I shout as I enter the house, "oh? Already?" Dad questions.

bitch.

"I guess four years was not enough." I muffle.

"At least you could have picked me up from the airport." I roll my eyes.

"Why would we?" Mom says.

"I'm heading up." I say taking my suitcase along. I hitch my breath as I open my bedroom door, and instantly receive flashbacks.

Oh fuck.

Okay, maybe this will be a little harder than I thought. I take a deep breath and enter my room.

'Definitely giving my room a makeover'.

I think to myself. Wow, fourteen-year-old me was not thinking.

Definitely getting rid of the blue walls for white. I started to unpack my suitcases and place my clothes in the walk-in closet that's in my room.

"Dinners ready." My mom says to me leaving my door wide open.

"Coming." I mutter. I head over slowly and sat down at the dinner table.

"What's for dinner?" I question.

"Your favourite." Mom says. "Hmm." I hum, soon she places a plate of pasta. I hate pasta because of her.

"Thanks." I roll my eyes in a slight.

"How was the school?" Dad asks me. Wow, they really are trying to 'fix' everything.

"Fine." I kept it short.

"Where are you going for college?" mom asks.

Fucking dumbass.

They destroyed my future.

Goodbye college.

"Remember I can't go to college." I say.

"What!" Dad yells angrily. "Why not!" mom screams. "Because of rosewood boarding school, parents. The school is literally for criminal kids." I tell them, keeping my cool.