Hello, so I've decided to start on a new story, and i need your oppinions on the beginning. I dont know if i should finish it or not, so please give me your oppinions/ advice on it. should i go through with this story or not?
xo---- Alyssa
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My legs were slightly cross at my ankles; my fingers were intertwined with each other. My heart was pounding out of my chest, sweat threatening to trickle onto my face. I forced my nerves to calm down, not dareining to ruin my perfectly curled hair that trailed down my straightened back. I also didn’t want to ruin my makeup, which Jordan did this morning so I would look presentable.
Jordan, oh I would miss her. She was my best friend, who had light brown skin and straight black hair she always kept in a short asymmetrical bob. She had a gorgeous smile; her pearly white teeth could brighten a whole room. She was nice, sweet, and happy, just like the perfect best friend everyone wanted. Who everyone wanted to be, right? But nobody knew about her secret she just shared with me last month. When she broke up with her boyfriend a couple of months ago, he said she was fat, stupid, ugly, horrible crucial things that would kill a girl. Her secret little way to release the pain she felt, was with sharp razor blades and smooth knives. They kept whispering to her, so she would lash them onto her skin to let the dark blood drop down her skin. Luckily I helped her stop, before she took it too far.
I remained seated in the weathered black chair at the JFK airport, as I watched people walk past as they hugged their loved grandfathers, aunts, uncles, and friends. I wish I could be like one of them, running up to my father and crying over how much I’ve missed him. Sadly, that defiantly wouldn’t happen. This is my first time I’ve seen my father in years, because of the harsh separation I put between us. My phone beeped, announcing I received a new text. I flipped open my old LG flip-phone. My dad offered to buy me a knew fancy little iPhone, but I rejected his offer not wanting to give him the wrong idea that I’m opening a door for forgiveness. I saw that the message was from my dad, and opened it to see what he wanted.
John: Hello
I shot a quick text back, simply stating I didn’t have time for small talk and asked what he wanted.
John: Im outside, do you need some help bringing your bags?
Me: no
I picked up my brown guitar case, and small carryon bag, as I made my way toward the exit. I sadly sighed as I walked towards the shiny black range rover that I knew my dad would be in. My three years in New York was going to be hell.
