When I die young

1

Life is like a book.

You can judge from the cover, but you never know how good or bad it is on the inside.

If you ever get a page you don't like, you can flip the page, but you will miss something very important.

I'm never going to flip pages. Ever.

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I hate those love stories where the woman finds her Prince Charming. At first sight they run to each other and have sex basically. It not real.

What is real though- depression, fighting, crying, hopelessness, craziness. How in the world did you get happiness and love out of all that?

We are all just experiments. I bet that big guy in the sky is just looking down on us waiting for something to tell his friends about.

I can imagine 'hey dude! Look at this human!'

'How can they be so stupid?'

'Do they need some privacy?'

I think it would be hilarious. I would do it too.

It would be hilarious to watch us humans live the way we do. From pencil thin exercise freaks to obese lazy bums. It amazing to think of the differences.

Now, onto reality and out of my thinking world. People say I could be a philosopher because I think so much, but really it's just my escape. Thinking can take away my pain in life, or replace it with something much larger. It can whisk me away to higher places, or it can pull me down farther. It is blessing and a curse all the same.

I smell the amazing smell of bacon, drawing me downstairs for the first time today.

"Finally! We woke the beast!" My dad jokes around with me.

"Wouldn't you want to not wake the beast?" I grumble into my morning hair.

"Most of the time, no. But when your daughter is the so called 'beast' that stays up in her room every day, you want to spend as much time as possible with her, but you can't get as much time as you wish."

"Dad, that doesn't make hardly any sense at all."

"It's the eternal struggle of a parent."

Dang, he knows how to guilt trip.

"Dan, stop that. Gen, do you want bacon and eggs?" My mom asks me.

"Sure."

"Scrambled or fried?"

"Scrambled, please." My mom fills my plate with food and hands it to me. Wow, she is feeling active this morning. She hardly ever hands me my plate (do you have that struggle?) with all my food on it that I don't have to exert energy to get unless- oh no. Bad news.

I sit down on the couch slowly. Trying to stuff my face with as much food as possible and preparing myself for the worst.

My dad starts to turn down the television. Stuff the face, stuff the face, FASTER GEN FASTER!!

"Honey, we have to talk to you." My mom comes and sits down on one of the couches. Where is my sister when I need her? She could be a good distraction to them so I can run for the hills (otherwise known as my bedroom, but hills sounds better.)

"Mhm?" Make them think that you don't know what is going on, Genevieve...

"Well... Your father and I have been talking and... Well... We think that we should go ahead and... Move?" My mom says it like I have a choice.

I almost spit out my eggs,"So early?"

"Yes."

"You would still be able to go into second grade next year, don't worry about that." My dad adds in.