You know that feeling that you get when you're missing someone that use to make you so happy, or overall things that made you happy? Yeah will I would be a total expert at it. It's like your hearts drops all the way to your stomach or how you remember how you'd stupidly smile at a text on your screen.
I, Amelie Thompson, knew that I could get over this.... in like a million years. "Heartbreak is like a phase." At least that's what my adoptive mother told me when she found out about him. She said that I just needed time and that time would fix me and I'd be myself again. But then again she was on her sixth or seventh cup of wine so who knows were her mind was.
My adoptive mother, Janelli Mohegan, or Jane had taken me in when I was five years old. The problem was she wouldn't let me call her 'mom'. She had a good reason though. Apparently a year before she had taken me in she had a daughter. Her daughter's name was Blare. Blare Mohegan was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of three and died at the age of four. And where was her father when all of this happened? Probably somewhere else in the world because Blare was born from a sperm donor. Jane was a very determined woman, which was why she decided to be a single mother. Not that this was bad but my grandma or 'Gammie' thought otherwise. She thought Jane was going insane but deep down she was happy that she'd finally have a grandkid.
When Blare died, Jane was a wreck, I first met her a few days before I turned five and her house was a mess. But once she saw me it was like God had listened to her prayers. Here was this four-year old brunette toddler standing next to a tall, dark skinned social worker standing in her living room with wide smiles and Jane looking like a mess attempted smiling back. Jane ended showing me a picture of Blare, and the weirdest part was that I looked almost exactly like Blare. Kinda creepy, right? But then again I had small freckles that you could barely see and a birthmark as big as a bean on my right temple. I don't remember seeing Jane start crying but that's what happened when she heard I had to leave and what I did was go and hug her till she stopped, and that's when the social worker that had brought me here, named Olivia knew she had done the right thing.
Jane adopted me on my birthday. Which was June twelfth. I still remember the big birthday bash she threw for me we were so happy that day.
Now I'm sixteen years old, about to turn seventeen, at a party, remembering happy thoughts, possibly hallucinating, and pretty sure that I'd find myself passed out in a bath tub the next morning. But oh well, shit happens.
Okay so this my first book that I came up with in less than ten-fifteen minutes which is pretty good considering I suck at ideas. (Ok, I might have had some help.)
But I mean here goes nothing.
Sincerely, your lovely jellybean. :-)
