Awkward Talk (niall au)

        In the year of 1994, Curt Cobain died. Everyone was distraught, including my parents. Some so much that they would have things to remind them of his life. 

           My parents used to be the 'rock and roll' type of people. They would ride motorcycles and go to raves; well I am guessing anyways. My parents died in the year of 1997, just two years after I was born. Sucks right?

        Anyways, like I was saying, they were indeed the type of people to listen to Curt. They idoled him- apparently they had this little fan club going and like a hundred people were in it. To me that is kind of strange but whatever. And they idoled him so much that when he died it was like anything reminded them of Curt Cobain. 

        The strange thing is, my parents went to great lengths for his death. So on August 9th, 1995, at exactly 3:31 pm, my parents gave me a gruesome name. No they didnt name me Curt, or Cobain, or anything really stupid like that. They named me Nirvana Cee Rose. Silly right? Most of the time I go by the name Nirvana, but a few people that just wake up in the morning to annoy me call me Nirv. Which just so happens to be my two best friends, Gentry and Jordan- they are twins by the way. 

        Now onto the rest of my life. After my parents died in some type of motorcycle accident, I'm not for sure really because I was only two, I was taken in by a newly wed couple. If I would have known that they would be controlling, strict, rich snobs I would have thrown a fit. But of course I was only two, what power would I have had to stop it?

        At first everything was great. I got everything that I wanted. I always had the best birthday parties in town. Everything seemed to be going my way. That is until I turned 14 and realized what a snob I had become. I was the most popular girl in school and I hated it. So I backed out of everything and decided to stay low for a bit. Eventually I was the nobody at school, and my 'parents' hated it. They would always tell me how I needed to be more social because it looks bad on them to have a failure as a child. Great parents right?

        And then, I started to get involved into art. I thought it was more of a hobby until I realized I wanted to do this for the rest of my life. My parents didn't think it was the best career choice. 

        "You are throwing your life away already! We gave you everything and this is how you repay us?"  They always wanted me to go into the career feild of business. Eventually they wanted me to run their stupid company. 

           I started to sell my artwork, which were mainly sketches and charcoil drawings. Holly and Alexander still dissaproved (my parents). My peice, entitled 'City Lights' was shown in an art galary and sold for 50,000 dollars. I never told my parents how much I made or that someone even bought it. I am saving this money for an emergency. 

   .

   .

        "You need to get your life together! I can't have my only daughter giving off a bad impression!" My mother yells, well more like screeches. 

        "So that is all you care about, how we look to other people. You have a twisted mind Holly, and I can't take the impact of it any more!" She looks at me bewildered. 

        "What do you mean?" Her eyes glare at me, challenging me to say more.

        "I'm eighteen now, making me a legal adult which gives me the right to make my own decisions. And I have decided that I am leaving." I try to stay as calm as possible.

        "No. I am still your mother and I say no." I look at her shocked.

        "Actually no, you are only my mother when I do exactly what you want and act exactly like you! And I am not like you Holly! I am not some self-concieted, controlling, snobby woman! I refuse to be a copy of you." And there goes being calm.

        "You listen to me Nirvana. I am your mother and you will listen to me. I will not le-" I ignore the rest of her childish rant and walk up to my room and quickly pack my things. Sketchbooks, supplys, clothes, phone, and my stuffed elephant my real parents gave me. I run dow the stairs and past Holly.

        I feel a pull at my arm.

        "Nirvana, you stupid little girl. I am your mother and I demand that you sta-"

        "No. You are not my mother. My mother is dead and you are just the lowlife that turned me into a clone of yourself and I am sick of it. Goodbye." I walk out the door, slamming it and leaving her there, stunned. I quickly open my pocket to see that the fifty thousand is still there. I start to walk fast and look straight forward, not looking at the woman yelling at me by my childhood home. 

        This new life will be for me, and for me only. Not some seflish bitch.