*i wrote this at 12 on my phone so please don't mind the spelling errors I'm so sorry but also some things in here might be triggering just a warning
"SAMMMMM GET UP RIGHT NOW OR YOU'LL BE LATE!"
I rolled over in bed and found my phone under a dirty pile of clothes on my bed.
7:05 October 16,2014.
3 years.
no. not today.
3 years ago on the spot my dad died. He used to be my best friend. We had that perfect daddy daughter relationship like in the movies. He was the only one who understood me. We would go to breakfast every Saturday and those Saturdays became a part of me. There we could discuss anything. It was like my escape from all the drama in my life. But then one Saturday day those breakfast stop and I find my self coming home from a party with some punk on the phone telling me how he found my Dad in a car crash on the side of the road with some chick and they were in bad condition. By the time I arrived on the scene, my dad was already dead along with the chick in the car with him who wasn't even my mom, his so called soul mate. I think that's what drove me to hate these stupid watches. Just that day at breakfast, my Dad had given me some long speech on how he was so excited for my watch to hit 00:00 and how it was all that was the best day of his long and a ton more BS. And you know what his last words to me were? "Make sure you don't forget your watch at that party tonight!" He had the actual nerve to say that when he had been cheating on my mom the whole time. So ya it hits you pretty hard when you find your dad dead with his mistress. I was so disgusted that I didn't even cry when they rolled his body away. My whole body shook with anger. He deserved to die. He lived a lie his whole life, and I was just another pawn in his stupid game. My mom used to always tell me I only acted in the moment. She was right. I couldn't control the pain drowning me. I had to get revenge on this lying, dirty, bastard of a father who made me believe I could find true love with a stupid watch. So I grabbed my keys and headed to that god damn car that started it all. 00:00 I carved with every piece of strength I had left. How would Dad feel after looking down on that? Suddenly a large hand grabbed my shoulders and spun me around so that I was face to face with some punk ass teenager who needed to stop dying his hair and get his ripped jeans fixed. "Your Dad wouldn't want you to do that."
"You don't even know me!" I scoffed. I bet he never caught his Dad cheating on his mom. I bet he believed in the stupid watch and that love could be predicted.
" It doesn't matter. I was the one who called you and was the last one to talk to your father. He told me to tell you he loves you and that it's not what it seems! He gave me his watch to give to you."
I looked at the watch and what do you know, it has 00:00 flashing in red numbers."Fuck him." I pushed the guy's hands off of me and threw the watch at his feet. I needed to get away from there before my own skin became to much for me to bear.
"Oh and if you ever need me, I'm Michael Clifford" the boy yelled to me before picking up the watch off the ground and putting it in his pocket.
"Ya ya ya whatever" I scoffed and sped off to escape what seemed like the downfall of my life.
My life took a turn for the worst after that. I went home straight away and threw my stupid watch in the back of my closet, hoping never to see it again. I wanted the watch to burn in hell, but the stupid things were made to be indestructible so you can always wear it. No one ever told my mom about the woman in the car with dad. She still believes a drunk driver hit him one night when he was coming home from a football game, and she still believes that Dad loves her. I didn't want to break her heart. She had already been through enough with my brother leaving in the middle of the night and my depression and all that shit. Still the sight of my dad and that women with his clock flashing 00:00 ached in my bones. I was constantly suffocating in my own skin and there was no escape. My mind was a dark void with never ending dark thoughts. I resorted to drugs, vodka, and blades to escape the endless black hole formed in my chest. I only desired the things that would almost destroy me in the end. Any daily task was a struggle. My grades dropped dramatically and I disappeared from the face of the earth socially. My friends didn't care. I was too far off the edge for them to reach me. One day at school that year, 2 people's watches hit 00:00 when they were talking to each other. They looked as if they had won the lottery. Everybody was congratulating them like they had cured cancer. I wanted to run up and slap them in the face for actually believe this watch could tell them they loved each other. Love isn't real. It's just created to make us feel better about ourselves. But who would listen to me? I was just another suicidal girl with a dead father. So I fixed my problems like I usually did and went to the bathroom to take the pills. But this time I took more than a handful. I took one for every person out there believing in love, for all the people who were naive to the fact they were pawns in other people's live, for all the idiots who didn't see it the way I did. The pill bottle was empty by the time I was almost 1/2 done. The school found me passed out, half dead that day. This began my group therapy sessions ordered by the school counselor. I had to go every Wednesday night to talk about my problems with a bunch of other supposed deranged teenagers like me. My first meeting I ran back into the kid from the scene of the accident, Michael Clifford. The sight of him brought back a flood of memories, so I left and ate Mcdonalds for the rest of the day. I think Michael figured out I was running from him because one day he followed me to Mcdonalds instead of going to the group therapy meeting. That's when we became friends. He actually did feel sorry for me after everything that happened and was the only one who agreed with me that the watches were stupid. I never asked why Michael went to the group therapies and he never told me why. But I didn't care. I could relate to Michael and discuss anything. Michael and me's mcdonalds talks became a regular, just like when me and my dad had breakfast. I talked to him about my cures for the pain, and he would just sit and listen. Although the pain still reside in all cracks of my body, it became a little more tolerable with Michael. The day it all changed was when he brought a guitar to the McDonald's on Main Street and showed me how to play it. The moment I touched it, all my fears and hidden demons seemed to fade away. The guitar made a regular appearance every Wednesday, and for my birthday Michael even bought me my own guitar for my birthday. Music was my passion. I was set on becoming a singer and making it big one day. It took me to another world where the car crash never happened. It was just me and the guitar during those intimate moments at McDonalds.
I was finally coming out from under my curtain of darkness when my mom got a call getting a job offer, and it was time to move. I never really said good bye to Michael. It would be pointless because we didn't love each other and we would never see each other again. So my mom and I moved across the state along with my guitar.
I was 16 then and now I'm 19 (PRETEND 19 YEAR OLDS ARE IN HIGH SCHOOL SORRY I FORGOT YOU CANT DRIVE TILL YOU ARE 16 ok). I can't decide if I like it here. I still have the scars from all the cuts to my skin I made from when watching the blood drip down the side of the sink seemed to be my only pleasure. Days of my past still come up every once in a while, but I've acknowledged how to move on. My father still haunts me to this day, but I've learned to ignore it and just focus on living my life. I have never seen or heard of Michael since that day I left. The guitar still sits in a box in the back of my closet. It's not the same without having Michael there to play it with me. I made some friends at school and actually brought my grades up. Things seemed to be looking towards the better. Mom still wears the watch, but I had kind of gotten over it. She didn't know about Dad's other side, and I didn't need to tell her. Basically everything was looking good, until today hit. October 16.
I could already feel the familiar ache deep down in my bones. Flashbacks of the watch reading 00:00 and the other women seemed to replay for hours in my head. The walls around my head seemed to be caving in so quick I could barely breathe. All I could think about was how I hated those stupid watches and wanted them eradicated off the earth. This wasn't going to be a good day.
I pulled the covers off and slowly crawled out of bed. I only had 15 minutes before it was time to leave for school. I pulled my hair up in a lose bun and put on so yoga pants and a tshirt without even bothering to put on makeup. Nobody deserved to see my looking good on a day like this. My mom greeted me downstairs like usual and handed me some toast for the ride. She acted like today was any other day. Little did she know the cause of my pain. How this day was the reason I tried to comment suicide 27 times starting at age 16. This is the day my life came crashing down. I glanced at her wrist and noticed her bright pink watch. She noticed my glance and just shook her head.
"You really should be wearing that watch you know. You don't want to miss the best day of your life, do you?"
I walked out the door without answering her and muttering a couple of cuss words under my breath.
