This was my story for my english assignment. My teacher didn't like it. But here it is for other humans around the world to read and judge. haha enjoy :) xx
They all say that we’re young and we wouldn’t understand what true feelings are. We’re only teenagers, hormonal, full of angst. But when people go through the day to day things that some of us have to go through it becomes more than just hormones to us. Sure, maybe in a few years we’ll feel like all the emotions and ideas we had when we were this age were just silly, because maybe we really are just seeing things in the darkest light possible, but even when things are viewed from the good side of things the bad are still there, in the background. Because without the bad we’d have no good, with no good there’d be no bad. Sometimes I believe it’d be easier, for me, to just end it, but then what happens to the people I leave here? What happens to me when I go? Where would I go?
It’s hard to pick a point in time where it all began because when does anything really begin? One day you just stop and look around and you realize you’re right in the middle of it. You try to look back on where you came from, how you got here but you can’t remember because everything just blurs together. Things aren’t like they are in movies, movies have a beginning, you can see where it starts, how it starts, there is a straight forward reason for why things happen, it’s all explained. But real life is different, it’s hard to pick one specific reason as to why you turn out the way you do. If my family was abusive or I’d been seriously deprived of something important and necessary in life I could say “That, there. This is why I am the way I am.” But even that wouldn’t be the whole truth, but it would seem to be a legitimate enough reason right? But I can’t say anything like that, because it’s not true. My family may not be perfect but they’re supportive when I need it most. My friends are the same. So if I were to start this from anywhere, I may as well start from where I remember being the furthest point back I can pinpoint.
*
“GET OUT OF BED!” mother shouts from outside my closed door. Groaning I reach over and grab my phone. 6:30. I really need to try and sleep earlier. Looking down to the middle of my screen I see I have a message.
“Good morning beautiful, the sun has come out to say hello!”
I shake my head as I type in a casual ‘Good morning, Alex’ back. I have no idea how she does it, every night she goes to sleep at some unearthly hour yet she still manages to get up early and stay up all day with fairly high energy. Mental. But then again she is my best friend.
Sliding out of bed I stretch, recoiling backwards I immediately regret the events of late last night as the pain shoots through my thigh. Putting on a large Band-Aid I throw out the rubbish and walk out the door into the kitchen.
“Good morning son,” my father greets me as he grabs his suitcase and walks out the door.
“Bye dad,” I mumble after him.
“Common Lucius! You’ve slept in and it’s almost time to go. Hurry up and get ready!” mum shouted from the laundry room.
Chucking on my uniform and throwing my books into my bag I rush out the door and to the car.
The day was a blur of fake smiles and unnecessary comments from people in my grade and the grades above toward my friends and I. They’re all so rude. People don’t ever think really. People never think about how what they do and say. They don’t think about how things affect other people, how badly it can hurt someone. But I have a way of dealing with them. Anything they can do to me, I do to myself already. And I hit harder than anyone else could. To me it’s okay if someone hates me, cause I understand how they feel, I hate me too. Not only is the sight of me utterly revolting, my personality is dry and my emotions are wacked. Half of the time I feel nothing at all, and the other half I’m being overwhelmed. I don’t know what’s better anymore, dying cause of the drought or drowning beneath the waves.
