My invisible friend

I feel different

I don't know how I feel, but I know that I feel different. I don't want to wear boring colours, crop tops and make-up. I like colours, I don't want to wear black and white. I don't want to drink beer at parties and look at boys. I feel different, but not like I'm trans or something. I don't know how to describe it, other than I have no friends. I feel like I'm half four, half forty years old. I still like to do things that other people my age think is grinch, but I'm more mature than them.

Last time I had a classmate at my house, was when we had to do some homework in groups. We were done half an hour before her dad picked her up. (And no, we aren't in first grade or something, she just didn't want to walk home, and we aren't old enough to drive a car, so her dad drove her.) But back to what I was about to tell you. We were done with the homework about half an hour before he picked her up, and it felt wonderful that we finally were done with it. The only problem was that we had nothing to talk about. I don't know anything about makeup or alcohol, and I don't want to talk about it, so we just ended up looking at our phones. Maybe it was stupid that I didn't start a conversation, because maybe I could have gotten a new friend, but again, I don't have the same interests as a typical teen girl, so what should I have said?

In my spare time I play basketball, and I'm good at it, but I don't really like it anymore. I started when I was eight years old, and the only reason that I don't stop playing it is that if I did, then what should I do, when I have done all my homework, and watched my series? At basketball I also have someone to talk with. I mean at least we can talk about basketball. I know a lot about it, but I don't see them in private, other than at tournaments. So again, I don't like basketball, but If I stopped, I would have no one to talk with, and I know it maybe sounds a bit stupid. I just like the solidarity. I like that at least three hours a week, I can be together with some kids my own age, who have the same "interest" as me. I also like the feeling of winning, then I can be happy, and I don't think of the loneliness I feel every day. I have thirteen gold-, eleven silver-, and fifteen bronze medals, and every single one of them hangs on my wall. They remind me of the good days. I know that if I had been a normal teenage girl, I would probably think they were cringe, and they would lie in my drawer.

Another happiness I have in my weekday is my dad. (Or at least sometimes.) He is sick, so he can't work. Sometimes it's enjoyable to have him at home, because then I have him to talk with, but because he is sick, he quickly gets mad, if I say or do something wrong. Now you are probably wondering where my mom or my mother's family is, and yes EVERYONE asks about it, when I tell them I live with my dad. But no, I don't have a mom. My dad used a surrogate, to get me. (And no, he wasn't sick back then.) And I don't have any siblings. He was planning to have some more children, but then he got sick. And since I don't have a mom, I don't have any family on that side, but I don't have any family on my dad's side either, because his parents passed away, when I was four years old, and they were both only children, like my dad is.

However, I do not think that me being an only child is the reason I am lonely. I mean most people have friends. They just walk over to others and say: "Hey there, do you want to hang out after school?". It sounds so easy, but I do not think that. I am too shy to ask, and I do not know what to say, so I say nothing and turn away. I just hope that they ask me. On the other hand, it would probably be awkward to hang out with them, because I am pretty sure that we would just end up sitting next to each other and say nothing, like when I had my classmate at my house.

When dad gets mad at me, he throws stuff, or locks himself inside his room for hours. Yesterday, he got mad when we ate dinner, because I asked why he hadn't bought any mayo for our fries. He asked why I could not be grateful that he made fries. I told him that I was just asking, because I really liked to dip my fries in mayo, and then he started yelling at me. He called me a spoiled brat and told me that he hoped I would sleep terrible that night. Then he threw his fries, so the plate broke, and walked into his room, slammed the door, and stayed there until the next morning. I know he does it because he is sick, but I really don't like it. Every single time he does it, I cry myself to sleep. And I have no one to talk to about it, because after all I have no friends, and last time I tried to speak to a grown up about it, they reported him to the council. The council did nothing about it, but now I'm scared to talk to someone about, because I don't know if I can trust them.