Growing up, I had to feel like I mattered.
I always felt alone as a small child.
Most of my childhood was taken away...thanks to ANXIETY.
(Thanks a fucking lot!)
I still suffer from my anxiety, but I try to let it not control me.
I always had thoughts about how people thought of me.
I had no friends, I was..
ALONE.
In elementary school, I remember grasping my seatbelt, I didn't want to go to school–that's how bad I dreaded it.
•••
After 15 minutes of my mom trying to drag me out of the car. I just wanted to turn around and RUN.
I sat at a table, with 3 other kids. They stared at me; I was trying to focus on my drawing my teacher gave me to color.
This girl,Alexa kept staring at me.
One thing I hate: when people stare at me like I'm not supposed to exist.
My thoughts were overflowing with things she was probably thinking about me.
Did she hate me?
Did she not like my face?
Did she want me dead?
My thoughts always do that, I always try not to, but I can't help it.
I picked up a green crayon. Hoping that I could try and color and get my mind of it.
AND THEN...
Alexa: who thinks she is the boss of everything! (NOT)
Takes my crayon and goes to another table and gives it to some snotty looking kid, and his nose was crusty. {God don't get me started}
•••
Few hours later school was over and I was sitting on the steps, waiting for my
"Slow mother" to show up in our old station wagon. 15 odd minutes pass when I see my mom slowly walking up a hill, in heels, and makeup.
God her makeup is so bright, I can see it from here.
She soon walks up to me, extending her arm to me, I grab it and we begin to leave school; hand and hand.
•••
|Speak the truth|
A/n
Hey y'all! That's my first thought story. Hope y'all enjoyed! Love you guys
Xoxo
Awestin
💝
