Emotionally Inexpressive

Chapter 1: Moving day.

There I stood. Looking at the empty room that once used to be mine. Empty walls that was once filled with pictures and memories were now just pale pink. Cardboard boxes filled with my belongings lay in the middle of the room, ready to be taken.

I heave a sigh. A sad sigh.

I am never the one to express my feelings to anyone except on my own. This room now empty, used to be the only place that was familiar with my emotions.

Late night crying, depression, anger and most of all happiness. For the 15 years that I have lived, this room has played a huge role in moulding my personality. It was a secure place for me to be myself. A place to I called home sweet home.

My eyes started to sting with tears. Omg khadija !! Am I crying? No of course not. Just no, khadija. Get your shit together. It's just moving. I quickly blink away the tears and moved on. I am a master at hiding my emotions. However today seemed to be full of emotions.

I knew damn well that we were moving and in that, I was most definitely not happy about it. So instead of voicing how I felt about it, I just shrugged it off like my parents didn't just say that we will be moving to a new city. A city where people have different accents and a city that's SOO different than Colorado.

New York.

So I have been bolting all of this emotions for the past two weeks. Finally it's time and reality is starting to sink in. I want to release all of this anger. Not just anger but all of the possible feelings and emotions out there. But mainly anger. Anger towards my parents.

As much as I love them, sometimes I feel like they don't seem to consider what I want or how I feel. They don't seem to acknowledge me at all. I don't blame them though. I am not normal. People sometimes say I am just different from my parents or the rest of the family. Precisely, I am called the black sheep of the family.

I am hard headed. I don't ask for help. Kinda know it all. Goodie old too shoes. Most importantly I am anti social.
At 15. I don't have what you would call friends. I have aquenteses. They only consisted of three people. Melissa, Anthony and Jordan. Jordan is a girl by the way. I never understood why that name was give to her by her parents. I remember asking her why she had a boys name sometime when we were growing up. I specifically remover her telling me in a annoyed and cute tone.

"no it's both for boys and girls" We were only about 7 or eight. These three friends go way back. To dipper days. We have know each other since we were kids. Anthony, Jordan and me were born is Colorado and after 3 years Melissa and her family moved to Colorado. They four of us became close and so did or parents. So we ended up going to the same nursery, day care and school.

Speaking of the lol. I have told them about this and they said that they were gonna miss me. We said our good byes by having dinner together with all of our families and also having one last sleepover in my house.

Melissa cried that night. I was SOO close to crying with her too. Take that as my only weakness that I would ever cry in front of people is is the person is crying or hurt.
I may be emotionless but I am certainly not heartless. I feel for people but I prefer not to show it. Unless necessary of course.

"Honey, are you done looking at nothing?" My mom jerked me out of my thoughts. I compose myself to reply to her but.... You know what just meet my mom. She doesn't let people talk.
"I am the only one that does anything in this house." She loves listening to her own voice.
"God. I thought you of all people would be able to do her own packing" I promise she isn't like this all the time. Realising that my room is almost empty. She stops her little nagging.
"Oh._______" Yh. I told you she isn't like this all the time. Properly stressed too.
" honey you are almost done. That's good." She says feeling bad about lecturing me for thing.
"don't worry, your dad will get those for you. Just go wait in the car" I don't even let her finish. As soon as she says someone else will do my staff for me I just leave for the car.

As I am walking out, dad walks in and asks me me if I am done packing.

"Yh I packed but they just need to be put in the car." My mom shout from up stairs calling dad.
"Honey could you get these last boxes of khadija's" she says looking down at us. I am shocked at my dad old reply.
"HOW MANY OF THEM IS LEFT?" May be he didn't realise that she was literally looking down at us and that he did t need to shout.
"You don't have to shout." My mom whines and then continues "there's about 4 of them left."

I leave as they compromise about takin two each. My mom choosing the less heavy ones and dad just sighing. I walk out to find my brothers putting things in the turn of the car.

Ignoring third pleads of asking to help them and sit in the car. I put on my head phones and drift in to deep thoughts.