Confessions of a not-so-teenage girl
And it goes off with a Bang
The annoying song started blaring from the P.A system like it does every morning. I'm late again. I won't make it in time for class and the teacher will probably send me to the office, but I really don't care. You see, before a couple of months ago I used to be a pretty happy girl-well as happy as a girl like me can get. I'm not your average preppy fucked up (literally) teenager. Neither are my friends. We're not at the top f the social chain-in fact- I'm pretty sure we're at the bottom: the low lives of the school, they label us as emo. I don't have a lot of friends; I only consider four of them out of the 19 that I talk to friends. The music I listen to may not be the kind of music you would want your parents to hear. And no, it's not emo music it's called screamo. I'm not emo; whatever the stereotype with that is-I honestly don't know what I am and when I find out I'll tell you, but for now, I think I will classify myself as human.
As the second semester started, I've felt like my existence was slowly slipping away from me. I feel dead. Some nights I can't go to sleep, some nights I'll cry myself to sleep, and some nights I feel like I've been drugged and I'm so far gone that I won't wake up in the morning. On that happy note, today is my best friends birthday, I feel like I'm putting on an act to be happy but I can't help but feel sad inside. It's not because I don't like her, it's just the way I've been for the last two months or so. My other best friends and I have decorated her locker, as I approach it I see my friends waiting for me there, nervously anticipating the birthday girl's arrival. But the locker doesn't look right, a little bit emptier. My friends tell me to look across the hall at the other locker there: a pathetic attempt of a forgotten birthday by a couple of grade ten sluts who posted a paper saying 'happy birthday sally!' written in highlighter and our bow from our locker on top. They stole our decorations; I'm defiantly not one to stand aside when people push me. We were very late now and she finally arrives. We attempt a quick happy birthday and rush to class. All I could think of were the pathetic losers who stole our decorations off our locker. It's not our fault you don't care for your friend as much as we do. I retaliate. As soon as I got the chance, I swipe the bow off the locker and proud fully place it in my best friends hand, telling her to wear it so they know exactly who it was. Time goes by. As second period comes to a close I go to put my things in my locker and become engulfed in a conversation happening across the hall: "Those fucking bitches! They stole OUR bow!" Our bow! Are they for real! Did THEY go to the store and spend THEIR money on decorations for THEIR friend's locker?! I think not! But their not finished "Don't worry, were going to fuck up their locker later! Let's go." Great. That just set me off. The day goes by with a series of rants and promises to beat the worthless creature who dares to touch the locker. I go periodically to check up on the locker, just incase. Nothing. The final bell rings, we're clear. As I turn the corner to my locker- my best friend and I share a locker- I see the girl pass by with a bow in her hands. SHIT. I run to the locker and sure enough, it's ripped down the middle. Now I go to a Catholic school, thus forcing us to believe and abide by God. I don't believe in God, but if he's there, what the hell is he smoking? What kind of God puts those kinds of filthy people onto this earth to wreak havoc on the lives of the good natured people who just want to get by in life without getting hurt too much? My friends go after the girl. And I stand there alone, red-faced, on the verge of crying from humiliation and hard work that has been ruined. I bend down and stuff my head into the locker, trying to calm myself where no one can see. Now I know what you're thinking: it's just freaking locker! But it was more than that. Unfortunately, I've inherited the gene that makes me very emotional. You would never guess it, but it's true. It feels like my life has been falling apart. I manage to pull myself together. Now I'm pissed. My friends are back, inspecting the damage. They tell me about how the hoes tried to deny they ruined the locker. After a lot of venting and attempted celebrating, we left. And as sad as it seems, school is where I feel home, happy-almost. I like school. Home, that's a different story. When I'm home, I constantly feel like going somewhere, anywhere but home. I day dream of being eighteen and being able to move to British Columbia, living like a real college girl. Or day dreaming of being with him; 'the one' as they say. Whoever that special person is, if I even have one, we would live somewhere secluded, where wake up and you see mountains and trees outside of your window. And it feels like you can just escape the hardships of life and live in the embrace of his arms. Unfortunately, 'he' is not available at the moment, so I'm just going to have to settle for myself: clueless.
