Hey, It's Me.

My Prologue, As If I Need One.

Right now I'm that teenager, that movies are written about, and this is my safe haven.

Now before you ask, or assume, or whatever it is you do when somebody leaves you hanging at the edge of the cliff with absolutely no explanation whatsoever.

No, I am not at high school surrounded by all your antisocial teens and stereotypical high school labels, and no, I am not at some super secret fantastically amazing hideout that nobody on planet earth has ever come across before and it's just so completely beautiful that you just know it was made by God himself.

No, and if that's what you were hoping for - well then - this is not your story because this story might just be completely utterly true.

Or just a whole lot of bullshit, but we're not here to ask you what you think - well, not yet at least.

But that is not me. (If you even remember where we left off, because quite frankly I don't care since the whole entire point of this story is that somebody finally pays attention to me.)

I'm just here.

Here, as in, my room on my bed which is placed perfectly in the corner of my room, against the wall by the window, next my wardrobe, across from my bedroom door.

The door that holds all my secrets.

And nobody invades my personal space.

And nobody bothers me.

And that's just the way I like it.

Except, that's also just the way I hate it.

I'm not the average teen; because the average teen these days are the ones who are constantly on their phones, talking to friends, hanging out with friends, going places...

That's not me and that's also an example of what I like and don't like at the same time.

I'm that girl, the one who sits in her room watching films made specifically to give you a little bit more hope for life but somehow it only works for the one minute and thirty seven seconds that the scene exists - because how ironic is it that shit always somehow get better in these movies and never end tragically, like the ending we want but also don't want because we are in fact secretly hoping real life could play out exactly the same?

Call it envy, if you will.

In fact aren't we all just super ironic and envious - to want things but not want them at the same time because it fucking scares us but still makes us feel somewhat normal? But still hating the somewhat normal stuff because we don't have it like he does or she does.

Or Ms. Audrey Hephburn on channel 209.

And before you start thinking that I'm a girl who typically effing hates her life and just wants to die because I'm suicidal and nobody gives a fuck about me, so what?

I'm not.

I'm not that girl... -

Or wait, never mind! I completely am that girl.

Because I completely do hate my life and more often than not, wish I was dead.

Not in the dramatic way I just penned out for you guys, but in a more simplistic way because apparently it gets better - and it will be okay in the end, eventually. And I'll totally get my Gracie Films ending that somehow makes me less of a self centered prick who thinks everything should revolve around her for five seconds because she feels so damn empty and the world is retreating and crowding all at the same time; and she's just trapped in bubble that is about to pop because evidently that is what bubbles do, isn't it?

They pop.

But that still makes me an attention seeker, right?

So yeah, maybe I am just that empty teen who must be completely soulless since she sits alone in her room everyday to be super dramatic about life's problems and how it fucks you up with zero percent care or tolerance of how you feel.

And maybe I am just that girl; who sits in her room watching films all day because she seriously has nothing better to do with her life than sit and drown in her sorrows of her completely miserable life.

Maybe I really am just beating myself up everyday and looking for attention because I don't get any or enough of it.

And maybe that is my fault or completely not, but none of that changes the fact that I completely have something wrong with this little box inside my chest that's completely rusted around the edges and doesn't remember how to open up anymore.

Nothing changes the fact that I'm empty or hurt by the words of those around me whether they know me or not.

And maybe I am just that girl with the same typical life problems that loads of teens deal with so I shouldn't feel like I'm the only one with issues.

You know, the divorced parents, remarried mom. Well, sort of, I mean if you count living together and eventually being considered married. Annoying siblings; who think they know better - and yet they still don't know that, when they're yelling at you about your life choices and shifty attitude, you're currently plotting your own death in probably more ways than one - but somehow still literally or figuratively.

And you know they're always divided into categories; these siblings.

You get the one who's life is totally perfect and seems like she thinks she's better than everyone, and is completely oblivious.

And another who's life is probably slowly falling apart and is the meaner one of all your siblings, but somehow is also completely oblivious too.

So they're either completely naive or blind to the world, or get this, a drug addict who never really got better since he never fucking tried either.

You know, the big brother or sister who's supposed to be role models to you. And I guess they're all really supposed to be role models to you but how can you even possibly be someone's role model but still not be able to notice that they completely feel like shit.

And I feel like siblings are just supposed to know that something is off when one of them doesn't feel to good on the inside. Shouldn't we just know that our little sister or brother is somewhere crying their eyes out?

Or do we simply choose to not care, because they're just looking for attention right?

They're 'okay'.

Oh! And let's not forget the brothers and sisters that you don't fucking know because you've got a dad who's a total whore and decided to get married a couple hundred times.

We all have that don't we? We all have some type of problem and maybe my problem probably isn't bigger than the next person's , since we all have issues and I should just get over it. Because so what if I'm a little sad, everybody gets sad. So what if I feel empty, everybody has felt the loss of something before. I'm not the only one right? My life isn't any more important than the next person's. But that doesn't change the fact that it is my life does it?

So yea, maybe this is a story about my life.

And maybe it is completely true, or is it?

Is this a true story? Is it a hoax? Or do you need me to give you thirteen reasons why first?