∞♡∞
Dear reader,
Before I continue, this is not a diary or a journal in any sort, but rather a tale of great, uh... romance? Okay, not really. My love life is nonexistent.
My name is Ella Cliff and I moved to Half Moon Bay when I was twelve. I'm seventeen and I'll be graduating high school next year. Right now, it's October and it's exactly 196 days until I graduate, and I just can't wait to get out of this hellhole. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a nerd or the hated outcast or anything. In fact, almost everyone at school loves me, some of them even want to be me. Creepy, right?
Logically I understand why they adore me. If I just look at the facts, it makes sense. I'm a straight-A student and I'm good at almost everything. Usually, I'm nice, meaning I don't treat people like shit, and when I do they always think I'm joking. My friends, Jess and Adam, are amazing, both their personalities and appearances. Last but not least, I'm beautiful, there's really no other way of putting it.
I can see all of this. I understand why other people see it. Yet every time I look in the mirror, the girl I see looks like a stranger, like a girl I would pass on the street. And every time I talk to my friends, I can't help but think that they'll never know me, the real me. And every time I smile at people in the hallway I feel fake, like I'm playing the wrong character in a movie.
The real me doesn't want to post perfect pictures on her Instagram. She wants to post about the Bowie song she heard the other day, or the Emily Dickinson poem that made her heart skip a beat. She wants to post a picture of her in her glasses and morning hair. But the fake me can't do that, because she doesn't want everyone to know. She doesn't want to tell her secret to the world, not yet anyway.
So instead I sit in my bed all day, debating whether or not it would be easier to just tell everyone and then go back to being me again. The girl who likes Harry Potter and owns every album ever made by The Beatles. The one who likes wearing flannel shirts and baseball caps instead of heels and miniskirts.
I'll promise myself this. If I ever meet someone that's half as screwed up as I am, maybe I'll consider ditching this stupid Barbie doll I'm pretending to be.
Maybe.
∞♡∞
Published 7/30-2018
___
Cliff
YOU ARE READING
Coffee at 5 AM √
Teen Fiction"Wait," I put my hands on my hips and frown. "You woke me up to ask me this? Because you want to meet me every morning at five?" "Yes." "So you honestly expect me to throw away three hours of perfectly good sleep just to have coffee with you?" He r...
