"You said, no you sang, you sang that everything was gonna be alright. You said that we'll be alright, Harry. But did you mean that?"
Where Belle Olivia Granger encounters five young boys who happen to be in the biggest boyband on the planet, and sh...
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*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*
I live in a fantasy. At least that's what I'm told. Maybe there's truth to it? Even if there is, I don't mind. A fantasy is better than the reality that I'm obligated to face.
We can't all have a picture perfect life. Some of us have to create that for ourselves, because it's easier than facing the harsh truth that your life is about as shitty as they come.
Don't get me wrong, the awful elements of my life don't even begin to compare to the ailments that others suffer from everyday, but I can't help that I'm an overdramatic teenager with selfish tendencies.
My parents were in love once... I think. Either that or my father just used my mother's kind heart and curse of falling in love too easily to get a foothold in America where he started his big successful business that eventually tore our family apart.
Long story short, I walked in on my dad banging his assistant against the kitchen counter in our family home. I was eleven. He begged me not to tell Mom, and I didn't for a while. I was confused and at the time I just wanted my parents to stay together like every other kid. Now that I'm older, freshly fifteen to be exact, I have realized that their divorce was the best thing that ever happened to me.
Daddy Dearest and I were never close. His toxic masculinity couldn't handle the fact that his stupid sperm carried the X chromosome that made me into the little girl he never wanted. Oh well. Fuck him.
Telling my mom that he was boning his Barbie wannabe assistant only made him hate me more, but who really gives a shit? Not me.
The only downside is that when they divorced he took all the money, leaving my mom without a cent. Like I said, he's an asshole- an asshole that I have to spend every summer with. Yet somehow, the summers I spend with him in the English countryside are always the peek of my miserable years.
I practically live in books. The people and the experiences written within the pages of a book are my only source of happiness, and galavanting through England, where my dad is from, every summer is the closest I get to making my dreams of being a princess in a fantasy novel come to life.
Having to live with my dad and his stupid assistant turned home wrecking girlfriend is a small price to pay. Plus, for every summer that I spend with Charles Granger and Celia, my mother gets a child support check, and God knows she needs it.
She always says that doing something you love is more rewarding than doing something that pays well just for the sake of the money, and she sure does love kids. That's why she's an art teacher at a local elementary school.
My mother, Jane, has a heart of gold. Unfortunately that's not a trait I got. She's kind to anyone and everyone even if they don't deserve it. Over the years I've watched her get belittled and taken advantage of by so many people, even my own father, just because she doesn't have it in her to defend herself.
Couldn't be me.
But then again, I don't have any friends nor do I feel much of anything, so there's nothing to worry about.
If my parents have ever agreed on anything, it's the fact that I let my fear and terrible social anxiety cripple me. But I don't see it has a hindrance. It's more like a safety blanket to keep me from getting hurt.
Vulnerability is a bitch, and I don't like her. I'd much rather read a good book where the main characters are almost always guaranteed a happy ending than go out and try to make one of my own, because if there's one thing that my parents have ever taught me, it's that love doesn't exist in the real world like it does in the pages of a book. Hell, Romeo and Juliet didn't really get much of a happy ending, but at least their love for each other was real.
It's not like I haven't ever tried to make friends, because trust me I have. The only issue is that extroversion isn't something that has ever come naturally, and because there has always been so much pressure from my family and teachers to make friends, I always choke. My brain refuses to function under pressure, and there's always pressure surrounding the idea of coming out of my shell. My tongue gets tied and the words always seem to get trapped. The beat of my heart always gets so loud in my ears right before I have an anxiety attack, and all that is caused by someone at school simply walking up to me.
What's worse is that my dad seems to have this sad and unfortunate idea that a boy could make me happy, but I know for a fact that one could not. If high school has taught me anything, it's the reiteration that men are absolute pigs and not worth my time. They definitely aren't like the boys I read about in books, so maybe when the average teen boy decides to stop asking for nudes and revving the engine of his rusty old truck to get a girl's attention, I'll start considering the thought of a boyfriend. But somehow I think the world will probably end before that happens.
People think I need to change, but what if I don't want to? I'm happy exactly how I am. At least I think I'm happy. To be honest I don't really know what happiness is. I don't know how any emotion feels other than anger. That's an emotion I know all too well.
Summer 2011 was the beginning of my entire life. It took fifteen miserable years for someone to finally make me feel something but he managed to do it three months time. They did.
If only time could just turn back.
hello from gill in the future! decided to make a spotify playlist for this book called 'belle granger':
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