Why is it so complicated?

Where it all began...

The sound of my alarm woke me up, which irritated me and made me think of the terrible day that lay ahead—a day that will once again be filled with forced laughter and awkward smiles that would cover up my silent opinions. To see the floors again, which I have grown so accustomed to remembering because I no longer raise my head to avoid making awkward eye contact with others while I am out in public.

I've always been this way; I feared social situations because they made me feel as though there was something wrong with me. I was also afraid that I would stutter when I tried to express my opinions or that someone would make fun of me for trying to be normal. As a result, I frequently found myself as the laughing track behind other people's conversations.

I've never been brave because I've always been more ashamed of who I am, even though I've always wanted to be more bold and confident in order to truly express who I am.

Additionally, I was unable to go out with friends due to the fear of my parents' harsh disapproval or my mother's reminders that, "Friends will only make you feel bad" or, " That it's better to spend time alone with your family and stop being such a burden," because they have their own families to take care of. Or often she would tell me that I shouldn't have to "text my friends nonstop or be so needy or obsessive."

Because of this, I was never really able to connect with the people around me, and when I did find someone with whom I could communicate, I would always screw it up and spend days hiding in my room because I didn't want to disturb them with pointless texts like "How was your day?" "whos your favourite artist?" "Do you want to come over?" I never let them come over...because I was afraid my mother would make me regret it right after they left, telling me she doesn't like so many people in her yard and making me feel like it was a burden on her life that I brought people over.

Despite the fact that they were either upstairs or in my room, out of her line of sight. She would persist in trying to convey to me how much of a pain it was. Though I could see that she did it out of fear of me getting hurt like her when she was my age, I could also take note that she generally didn't like people.

I groaned as I got out of bed since multiple miserable thoughts regarding the day ahead were beginning to cross my conscious. I think that the only way I felt like I could express myself was through my clothing that I usually somewhat coupled uniquely. I was too afraid to go to a barber because I feared that I would be attacked by homophobic remarks that would make me feel uncomfortable, so i always ended up doing my haircuts myself.

Observing the black short-sleeve crop top that accentuated my curves while appearing tight around my broad shoulders and muscular arms, which showcased my tattoos, and my blue baggy jeans that had a graffiti design on it, surrounding my lower body and were paired with a pair of black boots.

I couldn't help but notice how well my personality fit the look. I'm quiet and mysterious against the black, but I'm also a goofball and energetic sometimes (well to people who actually know the real me), against the chaos of the blue baggy graffiti jeans. The black boots symbolise my intense nature, showing that even in the face of my lack of confidence, I'm still willing to stand my ground. I never said I'm a pussy.

The vigorous honking of my mums car snaps me back to reality, quickly placing all my essentials into my bag ( my vape, phone, notebook and textbooks with my pencil case , and lip balm).

"YESS IM COMINGGGGGGGG!" I close my door, annoyed by the needless honking, as I live alone at the back of the house. You would assume we are filthy rich by the way my house looks, but that is not the case. My family struggled to afford most things until about 4 years ago, since we had to constantly budget and save the years before. It took a long time for us to reach this stage. Up to the age of three, my mother and I were homeless and famished, prior to meeting my stepdad. We purchased a modest house and used our money to add to it until it reached its current size. I say our since I had to start working part time to.