The Tomorrow People

This Isn't Me

Honestly... there's not much to tell. A fortnight (or two weeks for all you non-European peeps) goes by and it's all kind of... normal. Well as normal as it can get when your dyslexic, ADHD, and have some sort of sleepwalking problem.

Anyways... a month goes by... nope. Normal. Nothing really happens. School... that's it. a month and a half... still... nothing.

I'm sorry that nothing is really... shareable... so lets just say this:

Nothing really happened except that my ADHD, dyslexia, and sleepwalking problems only got worse. The meds I take made me hallucinate once and I started having weird dreams.

So let's skip to Christmas break, shall we?

It was almost break and we were all super busy. Apparently my parents put on a Christmas party every year for our friends and we could invite anyone we want.

The fact that Dylan and I are in the same group of friends made it easier... but he also had other friends that I've never really seen. Like Astrid and Steven.

The last day of school was the night of the party and by the time I got home, everyone was rushing around, figuring out snacks, decorations, where this and that goes et cetera. So of course, when I walked in and was about to rush upstairs to my music room, I was bombarded by my mom and a few hairdressers, make up artists and wardrobe people.

"Honey, I would like you to meet Tiffany," she gestured to the hairdresser. "Hanna," the wardrobe person. "and Breanne. They are here to make you look gorgeous. Now upstairs to your room so that we can get started." And so she basically drags me up to my room with everyone trailing behind.

They started off by telling me to have a shower. So I did. When I was done, Hanna handed me some clothes:

A pale blue one shoulder dress that went down to mid-thigh with a jewel-embedded cut-out waist, white flats and a silver bracelet.

I get changed quickly and come out, leaving my hair wet as they asked me earlier to do so. "You look stunning, darling." mom states, in the corner. "Not yet, she doesn't." The hair dresser comments sitting me down.

30 minutes later, I had my hair dried and in a waterfall braid, with curls. Then, Breanne did my make-up.

I stare at myself in the mirror.

The dress hugs all the right places on my body making it look beautiful, and it's not like I'm super pale... just normal so the colour is perfect. My bright blonde hair is all done-up and amazing, and the make-up makes my bright blue eyes stick out more than they already do... as they're super bright... with white sparkles and shiny, pale pink lip gloss.

I look beautiful.

I was fine before, I don't care how I look... but this is just... wow...

"Mom... thanks for the try, but I don't want this." I say, walking over to her. "What do you mean, darling?" she asks confused. "I look stunning, but I was fine before. This... this isn't me." I say, gesturing to the dress. She puts a hand on my shoulder. "Oh, honey... it's only one night." she says. "I know but..." I start. "No... it'll be alright. Tomorrow you can go right back to being whoever you want to be." she shuts down my protests. I sigh. "Alright." I give in.

"Good! The party starts in a half hour. See you then." she cheerfully walks out, beauty-people following.

I sigh again an walk over to my music room, sitting at my piano. I start to play.

Clothes aren't what they used to be. They don't seem to fit you and me... anymore. Modesty is out the door, wanting what we've got and more is in... yea it's in.

Ladada ladada, ladada ladada they're saying,

Don't ask why just wear what they say, you'll look like a model if you'll only obey, to get the attention just wear what we say. Yea.

Pay so much for clothes so small. Was this shirt made for me or my doll? It's a small, I get.

Ladada ladada, ladada ladada they're saying,

Don't ask why just wear what they say, you'll look like a model if you'll only obey, to get the attention just wear what we say. Yea.

But we're saying:

Let's ask why, don't wear what they say. Don't want to be a model, they can't eat anyway. The kind of attention will fade with the day, so I'll stand up and say...

Clothes that fit are fine, they'll show what's mine. Don't change my mind, I'll be fine.

I hear the doorbell ring.

Someone obviously answers it, because 2 minutes later the sound of music is drifting upstairs and I can hear the sound of chattering voices too.

Guess I should probably go down now....

This'll be fun.

Not.