The Saddest Life Ever (newer version)

chapter one (short)

yikes, this might get hella cringy but there's nothing I can do about it. haha srry

-me

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"I wake up every morning at the ripe time of 6:35 am. It's the same thing every day. My life is too structured, too plain. It honestly feels like I have no reason to keep going."

"I sometimes imagine what it would be like to be someone else, somewhere else, I honestly just want to be somebody else. But that's not an option. Never was, never will be."

Amanda, my therapist of two years, gave me a nod of approval.

"So, is this what you wanted to hear?," I asked begrudgingly.

Amanda scoffed, "This isn't a joke Taraya." Her body language was annoying, it's too peppy. No one is this happy. This whole facade therapist thing is annoying.

"I'm going to be one-hundred percent honest. True confession is arriving. Ready?," She's too gulliable and trusting, sometimes I'm surprised she even got through the schooling to be a 'feelings sharer buddy'.

"You're annoying the absolute shit out of me."

And that was my cue, that I prepared for myself, to leave.

I awaited the horror, that would be my mother, when I arrived home 30 minutes early from my only therapy session for this week.

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Sleep does absolutely nothing. I'm always exhausted. And pissed off, but the fancy nancy doctor says it's from my "clinical depression."

I partially think that my mother forced them to diagnose me with something. God knows she has an addiction to being diagnosed, or maybe it's just that she likes the attention. All I know is that she has more doctor appointments than someone who has cancer.

Every night at quarter to ten we gather in the dining room and we take our medication as a family. Every single fucking one of us has some bullshit prescription. It's unhealthy.

My dad's never home. He can't deal with my mother.

My mother is never mentally there. She's got actual issues. But she's just drowning herself in prescription pills. And my dad pretends he's not married.

But we've all got our issues.

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It was the ripe time of 6:55 am when I had finally gotten my ass out of bed to prepare myself for school. I had about ten minutes until I had to be in my seat for class. 'What class would that be,' you ask? English. AP English. It's quite dull. And it doesn't help that the profesor is a total dick, Mr. Hugh Janus.

After throwing on some jeans and a hoodie, I quickly pulled on my vans. Checking myself in the mirror, I realized that I looked like my brother. I mean, it was his sweatshirt but it's sickening how similar we looked. We could be twins. But we're not, as far as I'm concerned.

Jack is older than me by four whole years. But if I'm being honest, he still acts like he's twelve. Though, I am envious of him. He got to escape this mess two years ago, while I still had approximately a year and a half of highschool left.

But out of the three of us, I feel the most guilt for Liz. Being the baby of this family probably sucks. I bet she can't even remember a time where we were a perfect little family. Growing up, Jack and I took care of her when our dad went out for his "meetings" and our mother was going to dick appointments. I truly don't know what's more sick: our parents cheating on eachother, or the fact that they both choose to ignore it. Their marriage is more unhealthy than a cancer patient.

When I arrived to the bottom of the stairs I realized that neither of my parents were home. Guess that means I'm chauffeurring today. Checking my phone I read that it was already 7:00, which meant that I now only had five minutes to get to school and drop off my sister.

"Liz!," I yelled. No response.

I got an idea, "Liz, I'm getting coffee before school." I heard what sounded like elephants going down the stairs, sooner than later by baby sister popped out from around the corner.

She was beautiful, she and Jack won the lottery. They both had my mother's beautiful blonde hair. I had my father's light brown hair, nothing special but I lived with it.

Her hair was slightly curled and her yellow and black uniform was neatly ironed. She carried herself with such poise. And I honestly admired her, she had the confidence and beauty that every girl wanted. I was so proud of her and what she achieved. But that was then. And people change.