"Everything I Never Told You"

Chapter |1| Kennedy [EDITED]

August 2014

I hate my life.

And that's not metaphorically speaking. I literally hate it.

I know the dates and why's of when this black hole that's been living rent free in the back of my mind—and is the leader of my conscience, thoughts and decisions—took root. I'm accustomed to its darkness and the way it both ruins my life and saves me from any possible threats my overthinking is always coming up with. However, I'd sometimes like to...disappear, stop existing just for a moment—or maybe forever—so it shuts down and I can finally live in peace.

Peace. What a strange and unknown feeling. It has been like that for years now. There used to be a time when I was happy and carefree. Where I laughed at everything, cracked jokes, loved to spend time with my most loved ones—Mom, my brother Jax, my best friend Keila, my friends from high school—and overall enjoyed life. Not now, though. Nowadays I'm this hollow person that can barely make it through the day without crying or the need to end it all once and for all—and this time succeeding—by how much it all hurts. That feels alone—even though there are people that still love me, I think—and a burden to anyone I even utter a word with.

I'd like to tag myself as one of those brave persons that can make it through it all without feeling any pain and come out even stronger from everything they've been through. I'd love to say I have hope at the end of the tunnel there's going to be light—but I don't have it. I'd want not to disappoint you and tell you I've tried to grasp back that older version of myself that was more lovable and tolerable, but I don't have the mental strength to do so. I'm weak. I'm pathetic. I'm barely surviving.

Old Kennedy is dead after everything that's happened.

I exhale, taking one last look at the house where I grew up and made almost every memory—happy, sad, painful, triggering—and feel a lump appear in my throat by having to leave it all behind. I don't know why I do that. I've been wanting to get out of this house since the moment my mother passed away a few months ago and after the second worst night of my life that was my fault—I think. I don't know why I start overthinking the pros and cons of the decision I already took. It's not like I have any other option. I've been granted a scholarship at Kingston University in Denver that I already accepted. My brother has already started to pay for the rest of my tuition—something I feel immensely guilty about, not only because the it's the money he's been killing himself these past years to make playing soccer at college, but also because I've been the worst sister anyone could ever ask for the past years—and selt the house. My best friend is waiting for me to pick her up to start the road trip for this new chapter we're also sharing together.

I can't stay. I can't physically cling to the past—I already do it mentally every day. I have to go.

Shutting down my train of overthinking—probably the worst trait I unfortunately have—I turn my back to the house, close the trunk of my car—it was Mom's but I was the one who got to keep it, because Jax's got his own that, again, he worked hard for all his life—with the only suitcase I'm bringing with me, and get inside the car.

I connect my phone to Bluetooth, turn on my Spotify playlist with the mix of Chase Atlantic, Lana del Rey, The Weeknd and some Harry Potter themed songs, start the car and unlock my phone to text Keila.

6:01 a.m., Kennedy: 'Hi. Sorry I'm running a bit lit. I'm already on my way'.

Keila's text pops on my screen less than fifteen seconds later—something that doesn't surprise me because I tell you right now my best friend is on her phone all day either online shopping or scrolling through social media.