The Little Things That Count

~Chapter 1~

I don't see the reason why people should love. There's people who don't deserve it at all, but somehow still get it. Then there's people who try so damn hard, but get nothing in return. if that's going to be how things work, then what's the point in love. 

I could be acting like a total whine ass about this topic right now, but maybe I have my rights. "My rights" as in the rights of being a girl who is decent looking, but not decent looking enough to get a decent looking relationship. The rights of being a girl who always end up with guys who don't even want to try, but end up trying with someone else. 

I mean, what's so different with me compared to them? They don't have thick thighs along with some thick ass no one wants? Did they end up being attractive, because they ended up being skinny? They don't have weird, curly, black hair that gets puffy in humid weather and can never look perfect enough to make them pretty? Did they end up with long, shiny, beautiful, straight hair? Is that how love is? You pick a pretty girl and pray for a great personality, but you can't go for a less pretty girl who you know already has that great personality?

I might be overreacting a bit much. I'm only eighteen. Not even out of high school yet. I shouldn't be judging someone on how they see love. If they don't work out, they don't work out. I just have to keep looking. Keep trying. 

What do I even see in love? What do I see in it that makes me want to keep trying? The answer is...

"Victoria?"

My pen hovers over my purple kitten paper, over the sentence that was the answer to my questions. Do I even have an answer? 

"Victoria Steel! Are you ready?" 

Am I ready? I place my matching purple kitten pen beside my "diary". I reach my hands up to flatten my hair, for some reason refusing to look at myself in the mirror. Why should I even care about what I look like? 

"Victoria!"

"Coming!" I blurt out. 

I sigh and get out of my bed. I search around my room, my blank walled, neat little room, for my black sweatshirt I've been wearing since last year. Finding it, I pull it over my head while walking towards my bed. I flip a few pages forward in my diary and place my white bookmark, my white, blank bookmark, into a spot. Hopefully I'll come up with an answer that would fill up all those pages. I slowly close my dairy. 

"Victoria."

I look up to see my mom, my "way too beautiful to be my mother" mom, standing in my doorway. She was as bright as my white walls. But she radiated beauty, while my walls radiated some darkness that was as empty as myself. Perfect match. 

I look past her at the hallway wall, the wall that was not so empty, but is still so dark, at all the pictures of our family, the family who split up years ago. Pictures of my mom, Lillian, laughing. Her light blue eyes shining. Her freckles dancing across her skin. Her black, wavy hair falling like a waterfall over her shoulders. The woman in the pictures somehow looks so different from the woman standing in front of me. I scan the pictures and spot my brown hair, green eyed dad with a son who looks so similar standing next to him. My brother Jake could always pass off as Mark's twin. But they're gone now, leaving my mom and her own personal twin behind, me. 

"Are you okay, Victoria?"

I focus my eyes back on my mom. How can she look so happy? How can she fake it so well?

"Yeah." I say quickly. "I was just writing and I wanted to finish a page. I'm done now. I'm ready."

She nods. Without saying anything else, she turns back around and disappears down the hall. We never really have anything to say anymore. 

I grab my stuff and head down the hall, down the stairs, passing all the happy memories framed on the wall. Memories we would never get back. Memories that would never happen again. 

I walk out the door of our small, white, blank house. Past our blank yard. Stopping at the end of our walkway before turning down the sidewalk towards my school, leaving my life behind me for a day. Everything blank that we have can be turned to something beautiful, but I guess we don't want that to be seen so easily. I guess we want everything that is beautiful to hide in the dark hallway. 

I pop in my earbuds. A girl starts singing. A girl that has a beautiful life I bet. More beautiful than anything else in this world. 

"What is love?" She sings. 

Yeah. What is it?