A girl my age

Chapter 1

The feeling of being alone was never a stranger to me. Ever since I was young, I was by myself. little to no friends, and little to no social life. "Celeste!" my mom yells to get my attention, I get out of my daydreaming and look at her, her newly bleached blond hair was in loose curls by her face, her makeup powdered on her just enough to hide her wrinkles, wearing the new deep red tight dress she bought earlier that week. "yeah, mom you look good" I tell her, she sighed a sigh of relief and did a last look in the mirror before hearing a ding on her phone, "oh he's outside I better go", with a final kiss on the cheek, she left the house for the night. This was my mom's third date this month. I think part of her still wants pay back at my dad for leaving by getting with some 20 something guy. But a lot of 20 somethings don't like the idea of having a 15-year-old as a "stepdaughter" so a lot of her dates don't last longer than two nights. Which has made her suddenly "forget" to bring me up to her dates, and start to dress in tighter clothing, and make herself younger, anything to make the young men stay.

She doesn't know how this makes me feel, not like she'll ever ask. Part of me thinks I ruin her whole fantasy of dating guys who are barley adults. She never had to admit that to me, it was always one of those things that you just knew. I've gotten used to her leaving me alone for days at a time, and it wasn't really out of the ordinary for her to tell me she'll be back at a certain time, and be home hours later than said. But I shouldn't complain, when she's home she's nice, she's like my best friend to a degree. But her being home is only twice a week if that. I get out of my rampage and head down the hall to my room. 

I lay on my bed and listen to the music blaring in my headphones, I look around my room, my clothes spread across the floor that I've never had the energy to pick up. My eyes lay on my drawer next to my bed. The drawer that I never want my mom to look into. I contemplated opening it, forgetting everything that I was upset about before, my head being to high in the clouds to care about anything. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, I knew if I couldn't do it in the house, I would have to go out into the back of my house, and I wasn't going to do that at night. I shove my thoughts down and tap the beat of the music with my fingers. If it isn't weed keeping me calm, it's music. All I have to do is turn on a song, and imagine the real world fading away. Without realizing, my eyes get heavier, and I drift off to sleep.