Blurred

All that I hear are noises. All that I feel are things. All that I see is blurred.

  I never wanted my life to be this way. God never gave me any options. He laid everything out in front of me and said, "This is going to happen this way, and no other way." And I have to live with it. The priest at my old church used to say that everything happened for a reason; I still have yet to find out why everything in my life is happening. Nevertheless, I'm still alive, so that has to count for something.

  I'm not anyone special. I don't have many friends, but that's mainly because I move around a lot. I guess I should tell you about my family. I have a dad, Joey, and a dog, Cubbie. I call my dad Joey because he says it doesn't matter what I call him, as long as I always remember he's my daddy. Joey is an asshole. He drinks after everything: getting fired, doing the dishes, washing the dog, you name it. He denies that he's an alcoholic even though he knows. The worst part is he never tries to stop; not once. Cubbie is my only real friend. He doesn't complain when I tell him about my day, and he's always waiting for me to come home. I love him more than anything in the world.

  My mom is dead. She and Joey were in a car crash when I was nine years old. Ever since then, Joey has had a beer in hand. At first I didn't understand what happened. "Where's mommy?" I asked over and over. Joey wouldn't answer me. He  just nodded me back to my room. One day, my aunt Leslie came over. She was wearing all black, and I asked her if she knew where my mommy was.

  "She's with God in heaven, sweetheart." She gave me a hug and walked away to hide her tears. I still didn't understand, but I went to my room and changed into a black dress. Next thing I knew, Joey was dragging me to the car, sticking me in the back seat. We saw my mother's dead body, cold and grey and lifeless. I shed a few tears out of respect, but I really didn't realize what was going on until years later.

  Today, I go to Freeman High, a small school located right outside of St. Louis, Missouri. I think it's as close to hell as I might ever get. Everyone in Freeman is a clone of everyone else; to be in the in-crowd you can't be different. If you are different then you have no friends. That's just the way it works. I sit alone in class, and I always go home for lunch, even though it's no better there. I hate life here, but I can't escape for another two years. So I sit, and wait. I do my work and try not to listen to the whispers behind my back, but it's hard. I've thought about hurting myself, but that only scares me and makes me want to be even more alive. I know that some people cut themselves; I've seen their scars. I try to reach out, but I get scared.

I guess I'm just a scared person.