I Don't Know

Chapter 2: Imagine

Chapter 2: Imagine

Dear Readers,

You probably already know who I am as you have come across my blog page. However, if you don't know who I am, then this is your introduction.

Name: Anonymous

Age: N/A

DOB (Date of Birth): N/A

Well, in today's blog post, I'm going to talk about... stuff. I'm not exactly sure what to talk about, but I'm going to talk about something. So, for the past 6 (almost) weeks, it was the summer holiday. School is going to start on Tuesday. My family didn't fly out to where they wanted to go; I declined. I didn't want to be away from my 'cave' of a room. It is my secluded area.

Sometimes, I feel like my life is nothing but a mistake. When I was younger, my brother and sister introduced me into a new vocabulary: "suicide". That word wasn't anything but foreign when it uttered from their mouths.

To this day, I can't remember how that came up in whatever they were talking about.

From when my parents got married, to the time I started year 5, I and my family lived in a different district, close by, (Lashbury). We had quite a big house, but it only had two bedrooms: one for the children, and one for the parents. All that house ever was, was a starter home, for a quaint family.

As the day flew by, darkness started to loom over; subsequently, my parents told me and my siblings to go to bed. Silver and unusual, the bunk bed we had was that. The canopy layer was a queen-sized bed (for me and my sister); however, the emergent layer was a single bed (for my brother). Restlessly, I laid on the bed, twisting and turning – every now and then. Peeking up at the 'Spiderman' clock, it started to strike to midnight, and my parents were still downstairs (in the living room), watching TV. Having had enough, I tip-toed down the stairs, even though there was no point to do so, and I told my parents what was on my mind.

I sat on my father's lap, whilst he had a mixed-emotion face. "Addie, why are you up, so late? You should be asleep, you have school tomorrow." It was obvious he was confused and angry-ish at me, but he tried to hide it for my sake.

"I couldn't go to sleep... I want to die..." Tears were ready to pour a waterfall, but the reaction I'd least expected happened.

"Ade, what are you talking about?" My mother replied: shocked!

"I don't have anything to do with my life. I'm just a waste of a life... I don't know what to do with my life!" I tried so hard not to scream, but it just came out, on the spur of the moment. My father tried to convince me into thinking that I don't know that what I said was true, but I still think of it now.

My mother gave me a cup of holy water and she told me to drink it up. She thought that the water would cure my 'ridiculous' thoughts. It never has and it never will.

Sometimes, I would have these types of episodes, and my mother would do the same thing. She would talk none stop about it to anyone who she called her, or she called. At times, I just hope/wish that one day that I would have one normal, an ideal day for me. One day where I could sprint out of the house, without something/someone holding me back. One day where I could run into traffic and be invincible! One day where I could chill out, in the tranquillity of my own company, staring at the warm, golden Sun: setting on the horizon.

That is my ideal ending...

Love/Hate from,

-Anonymous