The Unfortunate Life Of Amelia Thorn.

Chapter 9:

It's hard to explain exactly why I was beginning to feel the itch of irritation when surrounded by my friends.

I've never been one to enjoy being alone - the social butterfly of note, that was me. Usually the high spirits of my friends uplifted me, but today.. it's not working.

Today they've staged an intervention for me.

As I step into the neatly swept Tech room, ready to offload my bag before my next class, I almost fall back sheepishly as I face their prescence, together, unified by some crazy idea involving me.

"You've changed.."

It begins.

It always starts like this, right?

The accusation.

I collapse into a hard chair and fiddle with the hem on my skirt, looking down to the floor. When I look up again, Jay and Casey have taken a step closer to me.

"You can't keep doing this, Amelia."

Time to play it oblivious.

'Do what?" A weak-willed smile spreads across my face; but it only enlightens rage into Casey's dark eyes, and I suddenly feel the urge to curl up into a ball.

"You can't keep ignoring us! Cancelling plans; ditching us at lunch; sitting alone?!"

I look back down at the floor, and my smile disappears. I'm not about to declare a shouting match with her, especially over something she won't understand. She's never liked anyone, and she was not the type to fawn over guys like the rest of us.

Instead, I bite my lower lip.

How am I supposed to convey the crappy-sounding message that I don't need their help right now. I don't want to talk about the depressing feeling of disappointment I feel each time I think of my life.

Oh, I'm sure they'd love to know about my shitty time - so they can judge me even more.

'AMELIA?!"

"Look, this isn't something I want to be forced to talk about and.."

"Is this about Kieth and you not working out?"

A voice pipes up from the back.

Jeymi.

You're kidding, right?

'Sorry, but..'

'You do know why you broke up, right?'

'Because I don't have a perfect relationship like you and Jay??"

Rage rips me over the edge and the words spit from my mouth.

Her jaw drops, and a stray curl from her hair bounces into her face. I know she's shocked because even I'm shocked by what I've said. I stand up and quickly leave the room, before I hear a sob escape the door.

Huh. Crybaby. She can't face the truth.

A tear slip down my cheek before I can stop it, and for once I actually admit to myself that things are not going to get better like this.

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The next few weeks were torture.

Day in and day out I counted down the minutes to the weekend - for the days I could dress up, make up and throw on a different persona.

The older Amelia, living out of school, who enjoyed drinking and casual flirting with randoms. I met a lot of new people this way, but let's not say they were the best crowd. Mostly older people living their lives barely scraping by, with a bottle in hand. Not exciting, but an escape.

Oh, how the daydreams overcame me as I sat in a hard wooden desk, zoning out of physics lessons where I could feel the blatant stares of my 'friends' boring into me. I daydreamt of freedom - the freedom to decide where I wanted to go each day, who I wanted to be, who surrounded me..

Instead, the destination scribed into my mental GPS each day was 'school'.

Escapism: the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities.

I suppose I wanted to escape my life in a way.

Wait, isn't that just suicide?

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