The Moth

Average on the Surface

I wish someone had told Elizabeth that if all you intend to do is break something after you fixed it then there was no point in fixing it in the first place. But, then again that's just the type of paradox Liz was.

Everyone here says I dwell on her too much for it to be healthy. Nearly every day they repeat the same words. Its funny, they act as if they continually repeat it to me a million times, then eventually, I'll begin to give a shit. Liz fills my thoughts, its hard to find anything else to occupy my mind. I suppose you could say I'm obsessed. Although, I've found that I don't really care about anyone's opinion anymore. Liz made me love her and she loved me, too. I know at some point, she was in love with me and no matter what anyone else said I knew it was true. She just loved herself more.

Why she left me the way she did will always confuse me. Although that's what she does best, confuse me. In truth, Liz confused me from the moment she walked into our support group, and she will forever confuse me. But, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy any of it.

Ever been to a support group for suicidal teens? If so then you know how delightful it is. When I left here for the first time, I started going to Sunnyside Support Group. It was court ordered. Where I live, Delaware, it's literally against the law to kill yourself. It's complete bullshit. If I want to take my life away, I should be allowed to. It may seem morbid, but that's how I feel. An unsuccessful attempt can result in mandatory therapy or in my case the forced participation in a suicide support group. For me there was an option the judge said a year with a therapist or nine months at Sunnyside. My choice was obvious: take the nine months.

Every time I went there, they asked a lot of questions, but by far the most difficult question to answer was "Why did I have my last incident?" That's what they called them: "incidents" not suicide attempts, not killing yourself, just incidents. I guess for some people it was easier to talk about an "incident" instead trying to off themselves. Sugar coating real life tends to make it easier to deal with.

I always found it difficult to answer the golden question. There wasn't really that much of a reason. My life was average. I was seventeen- a junior- when my "incident" happened. My grades were average- not horrible, but not to great- but then again Uncle Mason had never put pressure on schoolwork. They were mostly B's with an A here and there, some Cs. My looks were average- not ugly, but not heart-stoppingly attractive. I could get girls if I wanted. My height and weight were average- not too skinny not overweight, not super tall, not short either. I wasn't that muscular either. My hair was average- not super long or super short, it wasn't even blonde or brown just somewhere in the middle. God, even my eyes are in the middle- not quite green, but not blue either just a strange mix of the two. I was essentially average in every aspect of my life.

The only thing that set me apart was my living situation. I didn't live with my parents, there wasn't two point five kids, a dog and a cat in my house. Hell, I didn't even have a family. I lived with my Uncle Mason, a sales man for a commercial business. He wasn't married and he had to travel a lot for work so I'm on my own a lot. I have tons of free time on my hands. I don't have hobbies. I don't do much. I spend my days watching Netflix, and reading.

Don't get me wrong, my life isn't horrible. I live in the suburbs and I always have spare cash- mostly due to the fact that Uncle Mason feels guilty for leaving me alone. But, I'm not satisfied with life. Maybe that's not the best way to describe it. It's more like, since I lost my family and moved from Oregon to this shitty state; I just can't find my place.

I've tried to find my place. Trust me I've tried to be many things since I started high school. I've tried to sculpt and train myself to be a certain way; it doesn't work. Freshman year, I threw myself into my studies, was elected as student council president, although now that I think about it, it was probably out of pity and not my own merit. I'm glad I joined student council because I discovered that I don't hate reading, but I had no idea what I was doing so I quit.

Halfway through that year I changed myself completely. I grew my hair out, started failing, and tried weed. Although, I almost coughed up a lung the first time, I tried it. Within four months, the crowd disowned me, so I changed again. In the summer, I started working out. I trained for hours and made friends with a couple of football players. They were sons of my Uncle's friends, but they were cool, accepting. I sucked so badly, but they embraced anyway. Soon I was on the team, mostly on the bench, but still on the team. I made a lot of friends because of my "charm." My buddies took me to parties and at first I couldn't get enough. I didn't have a taste for alcohol, but I was good at pretending.

Quickly, - even after football season- my weekends were filled. Party after party. I was popular, and even somewhat of a player. All my friends egged me on. One-night stands were the way to go; I could never allow myself to get attached. Well that was until Marissa happened.

It happened toward the end of the year. She thought I really liked her. Honestly, I just wanted to mess around. So I lead her on and he gave it up to me at my sixteenth birthday party. After the deed was done, I escorted her out and didn't give her a second thought.

Not even a month later, she approached me in the hallway. She screamed and cried. I looked into her eyes. Those deep blue eyes. So much like my sisters were. I'd kill any guy that treated my sister the way I treated Marissa. Guilt overtook me as I stared into her eyes that day in the hallway. It ate at me for a long time. That summer I pushed everyone out. I went back to keeping everyone at arm's length.

I became a loner. I watched a lot of Netflix, played the occasional video game, and read. This was routine for months. Then I decided it was enough. I was tired of the same boring routine. I was going to join my family.

Guys... Hannah hates me now. Or at least she strongly dislikes me. Took forever for us to agree enough to publish this, but I hope you like this. Also were gonna publish every two weeks . And imma go now so here's Hannah

~Starr @sahenry642

I don't hate Starr. Our friendship is still intact even if she likes to cancel plans for my birthday and not feel bad about it. She changed every god damn piece of my writing during editing, we finally got a finished first chapter. Chapter 2 will be up in two weeks at most, hopefully sooner. See, I work weekends and Starr is bad at things so we can't commit to a weekly update, sorry. But if Starr learns to not suck or I get better work hour, updates will be more frequent. Um, I hope you like this?

-Hannah, the person who actually is allowed to change events in the story aka NOT Starr, whom has no power