Surviving You

Chapter 2

The Brick Wall

Everyone does it. It's an everyday thing. What to eat for breakfast, Pancakes or Waffles? What to watch on TV, a movie or TV show? What to wear for the day, Jeans or shorts?

Decisions.

Life is one increadebly hard decision after another. Wheather to marry the millionaire who will shower you with gifts or marry the average man who will love and cherish you like you are the last drop of water in the Sahara desert. Weather to follow the career path you love, or work the long hour jobs that pay the bills. We make scenarios in our heads of the expectation of how a situation will play out, when really we don't know how it will go. If good if bad. Overall, decisions are extremely hard to make. Especially when it's a choice between the thing you want and the thing that is right. And that will be it. The worse battle you will ever have to fight is between what you feel and what you know. But you know you've made the right decision when there is peace in your heart, butterfly's in your stomach, all the stress and worry leaves your body, and life just seems... simple.

But no, not for me because I of course have the worst life on earth possibly imaginable!

"You look... Different."

"I look like I'm related to Oscar the grouch." I scream from my walk in closet. "If my eyes could scream and run away in horror, they already would have!"

"Oh please. You're exaggerating." She says in a calming voice to me.

"You know," I started "You're right. I am exaggerating. Under exaggerating that is. This dress is so ugly even Bob the Builder couldn't fix it. "

As you can probably tell, I am in the winning dress for the Worlds uglyiest dress contest. I mean I don't think it's even possibly for this thing to get worse. Well, maybe it can if you slap a bow in the front, and if you dump a truck load of glitter on it. Oh wait. You can't, because it already has both of those things! Why my dad thought it was absolutely soul crushingly gorgeous, is beyond me. He probably gave it to me to wear tonight to scare off any boys that even look my way. Not that they would, considering that I'm wearing their worst nightmare. I'm not even joking! It looks like Barbie and the Pink Panther had a serious make out session in the 90s and gave birth. If I show up to the party looking like this I'll be voted Ugliest Dress in the yearbook. Like being the new girl isn't hard enough life wants to add a little more weight to my shoulders.

After I take off the sparkling pink disaster, I forbid it from my closet for eternity. A.K.A. , I threw it away. Sure my dad will be heartbroken, but look at it from my point of view. You would have gotten rid of it too.

"Alright. Now we have a blank slate to work with."

"Maria, as long as I don't look like Pinky Pie on steroids I'll be fine." I joke.

"Well I do have a little something I bought before I came here." Maria says before handing me a white shopping bag with a designers name I can not pronounce on the front.

Maria is my personal hair stylist, makeup artist, and clothing expertise. She has been by my side forever, and was hired by my dad when I was around 16. She buys me new clothes practically every week, but she is not just my stylist. She also is my very close friend. Although we are 4 years apart, we still connect on a certain level as people together the same age would.

When my dad and I found out about my mom, I knew my dad was beyond upset, but he just swolled himself into his work, and did not show that he cared. But I knew he did. He'd wake up really early in the morning and come home really late at night. And every time I asked why he had such a crazy schedule, it was the same excuse-- 'Sorry, got caught up in the office again'. I felt abandoned and alone. I was so miserable that I was diagnosed by my doctor with severe depression, but that still didn't get his attention. But on some nights when I finally had enough and just cried until there was no water left in my body. Maria would be there for me.