all mine | ft. michael clifford

prologue;

"Don't open your eyes yet!" My mother squealed excitedly for what seemed like the hundredth time.

My eyes stayed closed but I had my hands out in front of me as she led me outside. It was my sixteenth birthday. Something that is apparently a big deal but I didn't feel any different. I felt the same as I always did; content, mildly empty but still loved.

"Honey, you're gonna love this," my father interjected, the giddiness in his voice making me smile.

Whatever it was they'd gotten me, they were excited about it. And I guess I was too. But I already knew it wasn't what I'd really wanted. What I'd wanted was a small brown journal that I'd seen online and had begged my parents to buy for me. I didn't have the right credit card to buy things online for myself despite the enormous allowance I got given weekly and so I'd been holding out for my birthday, hoping that they'd listen and surprise me with it.

But why would they lead me, hands over eyes, outside if it was only to hand me a journal?

"Okay, sweetheart," my mum chirped, pulling me to a stop.

"Open your eyes," my dad called.

I did and was met with a lot of silver. A brand new sedan, metallic silver in colour, sat in front of me in the driveway. It was extravagant, shiny and brand new. Something totally outrageous and inappropriate as a gift for a sixteen-year-old girl who was only now legally allowed to get her learner's permit.

"What do you think, princess?" My dad asked me, hand against the bonnet of the beast.

I plastered a smile to my face, burying all thoughts of that brown journal beneath a pile of fake gratitude. "I love it!"

It was a lie. I loved my parents. But I hated that they didn't know me. Hated that they thought they had to splash out on something this expensive to make me happy. I didn't want it. It was too much; too "look-at-me".

"I knew you would!" My mother beamed, pulling me in for a hug. My dad joined us and we stood for only three seconds enveloped in each other like some kind of family.

A good family with good intentions. But more shallow than a kid's pool.

I was grateful and knew I was spoiled. Knew that every other kid in the whole world would probably be crying with happiness. But instead I just wanted to cry, period.

"Go have a look inside," my dad encouraged, handing me a shiny black and silver keyring with one single shiny key attached.

"Okay," I said, trying to force excitement into my tone. If they'd noticed, they didn't show it.

I clicked the button on the key, watching the yellow lights flash as the doors all unlocked.

The interior was leather and smelled like money and everything unfamiliar. I slid into the driver's seat and closed the door beside me. I could see my parents through the windshield smiling at me but standing at least a meter apart from each other. And that was the full summary of our family – supposedly happy but always apart.

The stereo looked too technical for me to get my head around and the steering wheel was cold and hard, just like the seats. I hoped that the tint of the windows meant that my parents couldn't really see me inside because I let my smile fall off my face as if wearing it was causing me pain. Because in a way, I guess it was.

I didn't know if they showered me with money and presents because they loved me, because I was an only child or because they felt bad for spending majority of their time at work. Whatever it was, I would have just been happy with a home cooked meal and maybe a board game night – something we'd never done. I wanted Chinese take-out on the couch in front of a movie or a trip to the bowling alley. I wanted a family day for my special day. I wanted a birthday like all of my friends got.

And I guess the worst part was, my friends all wanted a birthday like mine.