Pages of Autumn

Chapter 1

The wind hummed a violent rhythm, my feet felt like ice cubes. At any moment, I imagined they would melt away. I dragged my feet in heavy movements, pushing my muddy converse through mounds of leaves. I never took a hiatus to look back at the demons behind me-they would no longer haunt my existence.

I was on my way to freedom, God only knows where that may be. I wanted to bolt from my parents, constant anxiety, and depression; I wanted to get away from my home life. I am not looked at as a dispirited teenager in the small town I grew up in, known as Jonesborough. My friends and just about everyone I know call me a ball of beatific. I am good at putting a mask on, making sure it will be glued to my face for eternity.

I, Autumn Rose Hudgens, am the daughter of Debby Hudgens and Rob Hudgens. Along with that atrocious duo, I have a very infuriating little brother, Hunter. My mother and father work for a successful publishing company, one I don't bother remembering the name of. My mother works all day and comes home at night, while my father works all night and sleeps during the day. This hectic routine drops a massive bomb on ever spending time together. I wonder every waking day what it is like to have a normal family. Of course, the definition of normal may vary, although I consider mine to please more than just myself.

Normal is coming home from a long and stressful day at school to a mother who is cooking in the kitchen and a father who is watching the sports channel. Normal is having a little brother who doesn't sleep with you at night for the same reason he has had since he was a baby. The little freak is scared of the dark. Keep in mind that this little freak is turning thirteen in a couple of months- April ninth. Normal is being seventeen and going out to parties and hooking up with any guy you can get your drunken hands on. Normal is working for the things you want in life, not getting them handed to you. Normal is visiting the dentist every six months, having parents who talk to you and give a damn about what you learned in school. It is everything my life isn't.

I am gloomy more than I am grateful. I may not have parents who are there for me as much as they should be or the best brother in the entire world, but I can smile day to day because I have a roof over my head and lots of food waiting for me in the kitchen. I have a best friend, and that is all a girl could ever need. Her name is Sky Murphy. She is somewhere between an angel and goddess, and my voice of advice whenever I am conflicted. It is almost as if she was sent down to earth to be a messenger specifically for me. She gives the most intelligent guidance at the most correct of times. Sky is a woman who is adored- the nerds look up to her for fashion advice and the jocks search for her when they need a good night of sex.

As for me, I am somewhere between a pothead and an apathetic person. I smoke a lot of marijuana do not get me wrong- but I don't smoke enough to call myself a pothead. I don't care or show enthusiasm for a lot in my life, but not everything. I care but I don't care. There is a small part of me that is living and a vast amount that is simply existing. The tiny things are what gets me so nervous to the point where I feel like my skull is exploding.

Standing up and walking across the classroom to sharpen a pencil makes my heart beat out of my chest. Getting into any car that doesn't belong to me, even if I know the person who owns the vehicle, my palms produce so much sweat that they become slimy. Ordering food at a restaurant or going through the drive-through causes my head to spin. Paying for items at a store effects my hand stabilization, as they shake uncontrollably. All of these straightforward tasks are so complex and monumental to me.

It is like breathing air, something so natural, is difficult for my apprehensive self. Some days I am fine, and when I am not fine my thoughts are occupied wondering if any soul would care if I was no more. There is a keen line between reality and imagination. For bad and good, I never figured out where to draw it. I am constantly pretending my life is a movie and that nothing I do is truly important. Creating scenarios in my head is the only way I am able to grasp and hold tightly onto hope.