Cassidy Oliver

Chapter 1: More about me

I've been called emo, goth, punk, depressing, everything that you could be labeled as. I've "been this way" since I was in the sixth grade. I saw some older, bigger kids wearing spikes, black combat boots, and black clothing - black everything. I was shocked, honestly. I wasn't really a girly girl, but I wasn't a tomboy. But then that feeling changed over to accepting it, then eventually liking it. After that, all of my mall visits were to My Dead Soul, Black Fairytail, and The Dark Side; the gothic and emo stores there. I built up my other wise "normal colored" wardrobe into a black sea or clothing. About six months later, I felt I belonged. I was dressing like everyone else, I thought. I even acted like everyone else. Picked up their lingo - "Dude that's like, so radical!" , stuff like that.

I was 14 when I met this guy. I was a Freshman, and luckily, he was too. He was in my History class. His name was Jake. I know, I know, what a cliche name right? But he was different. Not like he can hit-3-homeruns-different, but a good different. I would stare at him all day long, looking at his short, dark, brown hair. His eyes; even though they were brown like mine, they were breathtaking. He was tall; maybe about 5'9 ish.

The next day day, he looked back at me. My eyes were literally popping out when I saw him glance at me. My face turned tomato red. After class ended, he asked me where my next class was, then walked me there. I felt as if I was a rainbow unicorn prancing around on a fluffy, pink cloud. It felt like a dream. One day, he asked me out to the movies. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I felt light headed hearing it. I was so stunned, I think I murmured some inaudible words. Then eventually I said my first clear word; "Sure!"

My parents dropped me off at the movie theatre and he was waiting at the front door. Fast forward: We watched this creepy movie; Helen . I got scared so I jerked to the side and crashed into Jake. I apologized, and he said "It's fine, Cass. Come here." Then he pulled me into him, put his left arm around me tightly, and with his other, held my hand. I hope he didn't hear me squealing and freaking out. After the movie was over, he walked me out; his arm still wrapped securely around me. I turned around before I went out and said:

" Thanks, Jake. It was really fun. " I said shyly.

" No problem. We should do this again sometime." He smirks.

I'm looking up slightly at him. We moved closer together as we spoke. We both smile, and he leans downwards. His soft lips brush against mine, then we kiss.

We went to typical date places after that; the movies again, school parties and activites, football games, and then restaurants. My mom kept asking me, "This Jake boy, you like him?" I would respond with, "I don't know, kinda I guess." I said simply. But inside of me, liking him was an understatement.

Two months later, I overheard him say "my girlfriend" and "Cassidy" while talking with his friends. In the same sentence. I was FREAKING OUT. Like oh my gosh, did he just call me his girlfriend?! He walked me to class everyday, gave me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, then left to go to his own class. We were boyfriend and girlfriend. That happy couple. Suddenly we lost our spark. I still don't know what happened to us; one moment we were love birds, and the next, it was like we were strangers. We probably drifted away because I started cutting. That's right; self harm. I did it because of us. Jake and I. He was clearly unhappy when he discovered my scar covered forearm. We were holding hands when my sleeve rolled up. Red lines, all over my arm; some darker than others from age. I've been cutting off and on, when I've been depressed. I've had depression since the ninth grade. Depression was a huge part of my life for 4 years. I don't have one of those sad, sob stories about being abused. But I've been bullied - a lot. I won't tell you about that now, but anticipate it in the future. Jake always got mad at me for purposely harming myself. "Why? Why would you do this to yourself? You're perfect, beautiful, nice, and everything!" he would always say. I remember once he told me that he would break up with me if I didn't stop cutting. That didn't make me feel any better. Just more depressed. He felt bad so he sent flowers and a bear to my house and apologized. It was better after that, he learned to accept the fact that this was part of me now. That he could only comfort me, instead of yelling. He could sense that when my eyes drifted away, something was wrong. He says nothing but pulls me into his embrace. We stay there for seconds or minutes even. He tells me he loves me everyday, every chance that he gets. To make me feel better. It helped. Most of the time.

Well, enough about the sad stuff. I guess my life interests you, so here it is.