Claire doesn’t see all the love around her until it hits her in the head. Literally, This 17 year old girl came to America when she was only 15. She doesn't have many friends. But, relationships will be questioned. Friendships will fall apart, and will be rebuilt. When she finds the one person she is truly in love with, she knows it. But it might take a while to figure that out. Claire has been diagnosed with depression, and has been struggling this up hill battle for years. I am going to describe this in Claire’s POV.
"Cya, mom." I said as I threw on my Brown Old Navy faux leather jacket and headed out the door. the first day of my new school. "Great," I whispered under my breath, "More judgment."
When I got on the bus I sat in a seat that didn't have people around it or near it. I put in my ear buds to block out any sound. Drunk In Love, by Beyoncé was jamming and all I could think about was how perfect Beyoncé is. Why was she so amazing? Whatever.
When I walked into the school I could literally smell the judgment. Every one looking at me and whispering to their stereotype group of girls and whispering, "Isn't that the new girl from England?" I was used to it. My bangs and long sleeves covered my scars and ugly-ass face. My hair was blonde. Medium length, and I was wearing a black long loose "V" neck shirt. My skinny jeans, and Marc Jacobs High tops. I saved up for to get. (And loved very much).
Walking to my locker, I saw the most amazing girl ever. She was talking to her friends as she turned to me and smiled. I did some research and found out that was was the head cheerleader for the Malcolm Spartans (School Name). I think I have always known I was gay. But it wasn't until this year until really knew. That’s why I was totally fine with liking other girls. (Just no one had to know). I mean that. I haven't came out to anyone yet. But I just hope no one found out. (That would be even more judgment (not like I already have enough))
I was already used to people hating on me, putting me down, And I think that was enough. Even though my cuts aren’t deep, the meaning behind them is a well of stories. I get to express myself, and even though it hurts, it’s a way to get the pain out a better way then keeping it in and one day, you get to full, and explode. Only for your parents to come into your room and see you hanging there. Even in the shadows, I don’t think I would kill myself. I know there is something out there for me. Like we are tied together. And we are getting closer every day. This is what my therapist has been helping me with. Like maybe I will change the world some how. Or maybe I am just crazy.
