Hello (Celebrity Love Story)

Chapter 1: Introductions; This Is Me....

Maria's P.O.V

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I'm tired. Not physically. Emotionally. I'm tired of waking up every morning pretending to be okay. I feel trapped. Trapped inside of the mansion inside of my mind. Trapped, with no escape. All of my feelings and emotions are bottled up inside of me, screaming and begging to be let out. I'm broken. My parents didn't care about me or my brother. They left us. They chose drugs over us. My brother and I were forced to face life on our own. We were young and clueless. Ever since we were 10, we've kind of been on our own. We were sent to live with our Titi and our Tio and we were fine up until last year. That was when they were killed in a car accident. After their death, my cuts got deeper, my scars healed slower, my heart shattered, and my life fell apart. I'm hurting, but I'm just going to continue to pretend that everything is "okay". As long as my scars can't be seen, and as long as no one knows what's wrong with me, then I am "okay".

I sighed as I climbed out of my bed and pushed myself up and onto my feet, shivering as the cold air attacked my exposed skin. I walked into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. After wiping the excess toothpaste from around my mouth I looked into the mirror. I brushed my hair as I continued to look at myself in the mirror. Who am I? I sighed once again as I slid down the wall until I was sitting cross-legged on the cold, tile floor. I reached next to me in the cabinet beneath the sink as I grabbed the only thing that could relieve me of the pain that I was feeling. I put my headphones in and put on my favorite song entitled "Cut" by Plumb as I began attacking my wrist with the sharp razor blade sliding it back and forth across my skin, sinking deeper with every cut. As the music drowned out all of my emotions, I placed the blade down on the floor beside me. I watched through tear-filled eyes as the warm blood trickled down my arm and onto the floor. Who am I? A depressed, suicidal, cutter. This is me....

Mekali's P.O.V

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I groaned as I turned my head to the side, viewing my bedside table. I reached over and felt around for my phone, finding it just as my arm began to tire. I grabbed it and hovered it over my face as I slid my finger across the screen, scrolling through my Instagram feed. After that, I did the same thing on Twitter, Facebook, Snap Chat, and my text messages. I replied to the few text messages that I received last night from my friends. I gently returned my phone back to the bedside table as I sat up and removed the blanket from my, now cold, body. I walked into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Then I turned on my curling wand and waited patiently for it to come on as I sighed. Looking at myself in the mirror, memories of my life flooded my mind making me realize that I remain without an identity.

Ever since my parents got a divorce, my relationship with my mother has been broken. All we ever do is argue. Even if we're hanging out. We'll get along at first, then it all spirals downhill from there. I think that it's because she really loved my father and she doesn't know how to go back to the way things were before they got married. I, though, don't really want him back in my life. I do, but then I don't. We aren't really close. I rarely speak to him or my old brother anymore. When him and my mother were married, he had always treated my brother better then me. Even if I got straight A's and my brother got F's, he was still my father's favorite. I guess you could say that he never really loved me. My parent's paved the way to my own self destruction. It is because of them that I shut down completely whenever I'm upset or angry. They did exactly that before they decided to throw away their marriage. They set that example for me, and I followed it. Who am I? I don't know....

Aiyana's P.O.V

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I sighed as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I don't think that I like the person staring back at me. I have a problem. I get angry. Everyone gets angry, but my anger leads me to violence. I hate when people talk about me. Everyone does, but when people talk about me, I get paralyzed. I feel like I can no longer control my mind or my body. I don't know what I am about to do, and whatever it is, I'm not going to be able to stop it. I get this sudden urge to fight them and it just happens. It's not just when people talk about me though. I always feel the need to fight someone when they make me angry no mater who it is and I just can't control myself. I know exactly why I do the things that I do and that I am the way that I am.

When I was younger, my father would always come home angry. He would scream at me for no reason and then tell me to go upstairs. With tears streaming down my face I would run upstairs and lock myself into my room. I would slide my back down the wall and sit on the floor, crying harder and harder. Then I would hear my mother screaming and crying for my dad to stop. I knew what he was doing to her, but I was young. What was I supposed to do? My older brother and one of my older sisters would always run downstairs to help my mom while my other older sister would come into my room and comfort me until the whole situation blew over. All of us are stuck with these anger issues. I am nobody. I have no identity. I don't know who I am or what I've allowed myself to become.

Ava's P.O.V

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Happy, angry, depressed, excited, uncomfortable, cheerful, lonely, enthusiastic, guilty, amused, helpless. Bipolar. I feel all of these emotions. Everyone does. I just happen to feel them at any period of time, for any length of time. I can be happy for like 10 minutes, then be depressed. I am bipolar. There's nothing to hide. There's no reason for me to lie or try to cover up what I am. My disorder does not and will not define me. I am not "bipolar". I am Ava Marie Garcia. That's who I am and that's what I'm sticking with.

Other people look at me and they judge me. They judge me on what I am instead of who I am. I hear them whisper. I hear them talk. I feel them watching me, staring at me. They call me crazy. They call me a lunatic. They call me a psycho all because I am slightly different then they are. I hear them joke around with their friends laughing and saying "You're so bipolar" as if it is some kind of joke. It is not funny. Joking around about my disorder or any other disorder is extremely rude. It's not like I asked to be this way. I didn't ask to be unable to control my emotions. But I can't go back and change it either. Even if I could, I wouldn't. I am this way for a reason....I hope....

Hey guys! Thanks for reading!! I am going to post Jailee, Melony, and Jade's P.O.Vs later on tonight. I just felt bad for not writing yet and wanted to give you guys a little bit of something.! I hope you guys like it. ~ Niya