My Life Right Now

August 29, 2018

Hello. I'm back again. I guess it's been a long time since I've written anything.

Just a few minutes ago, before I started writing this chapter, I read some Wattpad stories and I recently read The Truth About All_Things_Dean. It's made me think about my life and how empty I've left this book; how I haven't published anything in a long time. As a result, I'm now writing and publishing a new chapter out.

I'm dedicating this chapter to all_things_dean since they've inspired me to write this chapter.

It's past my birthday so now I'm fourteen. My uncle and auntie from out if town came back to visit and renovate the kitchen, which I thought was a bit much. I didn't really talk to then about things I was passionate about, but then again, I don't really talk about anything to any relative that's not my sibling. The day after my birthday, he asked me "What's it's like to be fourteen now?"

My dark or rude, I can't decide,  thoughts started to flood in. What a stupid question that is? Hasn't he been fourteen too? Does one and half day make that much of a difference before?

In the end I simply answered, "Older"

My birthday party was two days after my actual birthday, since my grandmother's birthday is two days before mine.

Days prior to the party, Kyle, Jaime, Josheena, and Father asked me what I wanted. I get a little disappointed when they ask me what I want for my birthday because I feel like they're supposed to know or they aren't supposed to cheat in the game of gifting a present. I'd rather receive an ugly knitted sweater than a perfect gift they already knew I wanted. To me I really do thing that it's the thought that counts, but I shouldn't complain about it. They're gifts.

Tomorrow, I start my first day of high school. I'm a slightly nervous for several reasons; I'll be the only one in my family that'll go to this school, it's the first day of a new high school so I'm the little fish in the big pond again, and at the orientation, I only saw about five classmates; the keyword, "classmate" so we don't really talk to each other, merely acknowledging.

I believe just last week or maybe just a few days ago, I found out that Jasleen and Shahil are dating. I would be happy for them, however they're still keeping up the "family role playing". So that means that they're still, fake, "siblings" and are still dating. So, incest?

One thing that's been bugging my side is Shahil. He keeps texting me. He keeps saying how he and I don't talk anymore. I am avoiding him because I think it's immature to uphold relationship that's already fated to never last. He still thinks that we're going to the same high school, but we're not. I'd tell him, but I can already tell how the conversation's going to go.

I'll tell him that it's no use staying as "siblings" since were aren't even going to be at the same school. Then he'll say that that doesn't matter and that we can still be siblings. He'll say that I'm being irrational. Overall, it would just be a useless and unneeded conversation just like all the conversations I have with him.

Something of my past seems to keeping popping up in my brain. A memory. A scene.

My aunt and I were on the porch in the morning. It was brisk. I was upset about something. I can't remember what it was, but I do remember what she said; "Do you wan'na talk about it?"

"What's the use of talking about it? Why would it matter? It's not like it would do anything–change anything. Would you do anything about it? Or are you just going to stand by and watch while I suffer."

I only replied with "Why bother? It's not going to do anything."

She simply stared at me. I think she saw that my desperation, my plea. But I was wrong, the minute she said "It could make you feel better."

"Better? Better?! That's it?! That's useless! Ha! Make me feel better! Like that'll fix everything. The second you leave, every fiber of my being will crumble behind you while you stand on your pedestal, on the sidelines. Better. That's bull."

I stayed silent, wiped my tears, and walked back slumping, dragging my feet, realizing no one can, will, or ever would do anything to help me.

I think the reason why I keep thing about this is because it's the first time my dark/rude thoughts spoke aloud in me. Or maybe, it's because it's the realization of how at the end of the day it's still me; alone, despite the persons surrounding me.

Looking back at the chapters I've written, I feel melancholy because I can't seem to remember much of anything. Nothing is as much significance as it was before. I guess that's what happens when you redo your day over and over, again and again. Reminds me of the game Stanley Parable.

Anyways, I'll try to write more often.

Good luck in life, Loves