Hopeless, Breathless

Chapter 1 - Dear Harold

Everyone experiences that one moment. That moment where they find out something that just might change everything. That moment where they feel like it’s the end of the world. That moment when they’re so unsure of what to do, they feel like they just need to escape everything.

I’m convinced that every single teenager has at least one of these moments. Some teenagers have several.

For my older brother, Hunter, it was when he didn’t get into the college he’d always dreamed of going to, Yale University. Of course, now he goes to Columbia University and he loves it more than anything, so that moment obviously wasn’t the end of the world for him. That was more of a moment that changed everything for him.

My younger brother Charlie hasn’t exactly had his moment yet. We’re all still trying to figure him out. He kind of just floats around, and doesn’t exactly have a game plan that can be thrown off by one given moment. I highly doubt he’ll ever have a moment.

Me? I haven’t had mine yet, either. I guess I am a bit like Charlie in a way; I’m still trying to figure everything out. Most people would assume that I have already had my moment and that I’ve already figured everything out – after all, I am a senior at Oakdale High School. I guess I’ve just never really needed to figure anything out. Things just come and I learn to deal with them. I try my best to just keep calm when things happen, and it works. There’s no use in getting angry over small things. Most teenagers do that, too.

Now is about the time where you’re wondering – what does any of this ‘moment’ talk have to do with anything? Well, friend, it has to do with just about everything. It has to do with everything that happens in our daily lives. We experience so many different things, but it’s all about how we handle them. We can let the smallest things get to us and that could very well become a moment. But why waste your moment on something silly?

That’s why I always have a hard time keeping a journal. My best friend, Rachel, is forcing me to keep a journal because she thinks I need to keep an account of ‘the best year of my life’. I feel that this is pointless because none of the things that happen throughout the day have a huge impact on me – nothing is worth a moment. And that’s what a journal is for, right? Writing down important moments?

I scribble down something, anything, to start out this brand new, pink leather journal.

Dear Journal,

Hi. I don’t know whether or not to act like you’re a person. I guess I’m acting like you’re a person right now by just talking to you like you are one. So hey there, Journal. That’s your name, okay? Okay.

Wow, you have a terrible name.

I’ll give you a new one. Something cool. Wait, are you a boy or a girl? Ah, confusion. Hmm…I’ll make you a boy. Then I’ll have a boy that likes me (I hope you like me or else that’s just sad). And your name can be Harold. I like that. And I’ll call you Harry for short. You’re so much cooler than all the other boy journals. I bet the ladies love you. They throw themselves at you all the time, don’t they?

Okay, well, I’m not really sure what else to write in here. I had toast for breakfast today and I also took a test in AP Government that I’m almost 100% sure I failed (I’m a genius, obviously). Is that interesting enough for you, Harold?

And now is about the time where I wonder why the heck I keep asking a journal named Harold questions. I don’t suppose I’m going to get an answer.

Whatever. I filled up the whole page. Rachel should be proud.

Great talk, Harold, great talk.

Love, Noelle

I shut the journal and shove it into the drawer in my nightstand. I head downstairs for dinner, which will probably be eventful. Hunter is home for dinner tonight. His apartment isn’t exactly that far away. He’s stupid for staying so close to home. His apartment isn’t in Oakdale, but it’s only a half an hour away. I’m sure that when I go to college, I’m getting the hell away from Oakdale and as far away as I can get. This town is so…it’s just so…Oakdale. There’s not really a word to describe it.

How are you supposed a boring-ass suburb that’s right next to one of the biggest, most exciting cities in America?

Yeah. It’s harder than you think.

“Look who finally decided to come downstairs,” Hunter comments as soon as I enter the kitchen.

I roll my eyes, “Calm your hormones, I was up there for five minutes. Drama queen.”

“Hey, No, I like your sweater.”

“Thanks Charlie!” I look down at my oversized sweater with a moose on the front. Sweaters are basically my life – I have the best collection of them, too. “See, Hunter, some people can be nice.”

The brown-haired boy sticks his tongue out at me and I return the gesture. We’re extremely mature, if you couldn’t tell.

Dinner is chaotic, just like all of the other times when Hunter’s home.

I have a feeling this is because Charlie is obsessed with Hunter. Anybody could easily tell that Charlie wants to be exactly like him. Whenever Hunter’s around, Charlie acts crazy.

Only about halfway done with my plate, my head starts to throb. It feels like someone threw a textbook at my head! And not just one of those wimpy, tiny textbooks; one of those ones that your mean teacher will make you take home and as soon as you put it into your backpack it weighs you down. I try to ignore the pain as best as I can, but this headache is a pain in the ass.  Next to me, Charlie notices my obvious discomfort.

“Are you okay, No?”

“Y-yeah. I just have a headache.” I say through gritted teeth and stab a piece of broccoli with my fork. The headache fades away almost as quickly as it started. I let out a sigh of relief.

“You know why you have headache? You’re not eating enough. You need to eat more. You’re going to turn into a dot.” That’s what my mom always says – I’ll turn into a dot. That’s her way of telling me I’ll become extremely skinny. She has this crazy idea in her mind that I have some sort of eating disorder. I mean, she doesn’t actually think I have one, she just thinks I’m too skinny and that I need to eat more. I keep trying to tell her that since I have no athletic ability and sit around the house all day, I need to try dieting or something instead of stuffing myself with food. She doesn’t take this as an excuse, obviously, and chooses to blame all of my headaches and bad moods on my lack of eating. Whatever floats her boat, I guess.

After dinner, I skip back upstairs to do my homework. I hardly have any – I usually complete most of it in my free periods at school – that way I can get help from Rachel, the best student I know. As soon as I pull my math papers out of my binder, I get extremely confused. Just looking at numbers and letters together makes me sick. Who exactly was the smart person that decided to mix the two, anyway?

It’s a good thing I have Rachel on speed dial.

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Hey! So this is my NaNoWriMo story :) that means the updates will be random and frequent, but are also subject to be short and/or not make that much sense (hopefully they will, though). 

Tell me what you think? Vote & comment & fan, pretty please! :) xoxo