Behind the Glasses || a.i.

Chapter 5 - Foster Nerd

 It’s funny how a human brain can work. It is one of the real definitions of change.

 What do you want to be when you grow older? I was five, I said, “Princess”. Second grade, I said, “Horseback rider.” I turned nine, I said, “Veterinarian.” Eleven years old, I had no idea; I thought I had no talent, no value, no reason to be alive. My life changed at the age thirteen, when I found journals. They say writing things down on paper is the best way to let off steam. I didn’t just right down my feelings, I wrote stories with them. I used different names for my reality-based characters:

 She scratches and pulls at my hair – angrier than a malicious monkey, mocking me, a mean monster. Alexis, she must stress, not Alex. “Trinity, never infinity, will die alone in pity.” Two years older, same foster family. Let’s just say I won’t be here much longer. They’re moving me – (thank God) – to a different family in three days… I’ve only been here for four…

 Amie, not Amelia she would say. “I have changed my name to something cuter than the name of the one of the kids’ book character.” She did this because I kept an Amelia Bedelia book my sister loved in my bag at the age thirteen. “Only the real losers have read those books.”

 Everyone has a different definition of change. ‘A difference in thought process, mood, schedule, and/or personality’. I changed. My life changed so drastically the year I turned thirteen. I should say it was negatively, but in some deranged way, it was in an amazing way, too. I’m independent, I’m writing, I have a good enough education, and I have plenty of people who love me.

 When I left Amie’s family, I went to an orphanage. That was the only time I ever stayed at one, and I was there for a year and a half:

 I left this morning. I feel like I’m free, but I know there is more to come. It’s like a daily routine, now, to expect the worst. I can’t even hope for the best anymore because there is no possible way to go back in time. The best times of my life have passed – how sad that I know that at only thirteen years old.

 I’m sure they celebrated after my departure. Why wouldn’t they? One less kid to entertain, one less kid to feed, one less kid to deal with. I sit on s train with Lucy, my care-taker. She said she wishes I could live with her, but she doesn’t have the money, so she is sending me to a happy place – that’s the kind of thing you’d say to a kid when their pet fish died… It’s a shame, though, because I really like Lucy.

 “I looked really hard to find you a perfect place to stay, dear. I’m sure you’ll have a great time, and I’m going to keep checking in every Sunday, like I usually do, okay?”

 I don’t believe her, but I accepted her words. I don’t like my new location, Tarrah’s Children Home, but I suppose anything is better than living with Amie. No one greeted me when I walked in, and I feel selfish for imagining something special like that, but it hurts. No one, with the exception of Miss Tarrah, has spoken to me since I arrived four hours ago.

 I’ll admit, for a person who doesn’t like being in the spotlight, I sometimes feel selfish for wishing I had more attention. People get lonely, but sometimes you just don’t know what they’re really struggling with internally. My friends make confessions to me when something is wrong, and I feel terrible about hiding half of my life. But when does this kind of thing come into conversation?

 What kind of thing?

 Exactly.

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Hello! Just an entry from her book! I'll post again today!

On side:

Pic of Ashton being a hero (I cried)

Fetus Calum and Luke singing (and Greg on the camera)

Meag xx