Alive//H.S

Too Good At Goodbyes

You must think that I'm stupid
You must think that I'm a fool

Lila Rose

When you first learn to swim, you feel as if you're drowning. It's like the world around you is turning this dark blue as the waves of the unknown take you under their arms, tugging you further down. You try and breathe, but nothing fills your lungs as the horror and fear of drowning crowds your mind.

You flail and kick your arms and legs, hoping that you could reach the top of the deep blue sea, trying with all of your might to blindly reach out for something to hold onto. But nothing is there for you.

Then.

You swim.

You had somehow kicked and thrashed enough for your legs and arms to find a rhythm that had brought you to break through that surface, gasping for air and letting out a cry as you stop what you're doing. Then you realize.

You swam.

I used to swim, and I loved doing it.

Then I drowned.

Today is the day of my father's funeral.

Out of all things in the world that I loved, my dad was number one. My dad raised me all by himself, with the help of Stevie, my dads best friend,and he raised me in the eyes of the public, those scary dark eyes of people who can ruin your life with one single article.

Not only did he raise me in the eyes of the public, but he also raised me in a small town in his home state of Kentucky, us being with nature at all times during the day, also meaning I had a southern drawl to my voice. I had learned everything I know about music from my dad, him always creating and writing new songs and playing them for me before he would record them for the first time. he was a guitar wizard, his fingers moving perfectly, perfect enough that he could teach me piano guitar and ukulele before I was 13.

I lost my dad almost two months ago now, two months after my first solo album came out, and three weeks before the worst night of my life. Cancer wasn't something I had ever feared in my family, considering I've never met my dad's parents, but the type of cancer he had was extremely rare and extremely painful.

I miss him more than I can ever express.

"Lila?" Clara, my best friend of almost five years says quietly from next to her dark-haired boyfriend Gavin. I advert my attention from the dust covered June air to her, watching her as she frowned, trying her best to give me her beautiful smile.

Clara has been through everything with me, from thick to thin and back to thick again. She and I met in middle school, her glowing dark skin and hair making anyone in her paths jaw drop open at her beauty. Clara means the world to me, and so does Gavin, even if we aren't as close as Clara and I are. Clara, Gavin, and Stevie are the only people that know about Ian.

I met Ian Anthony when I was 18, almost four years ago now. He was just my type back then, bright hair and dark eyes, a soft smirk that had made teenager me fall to my knees for him. We were dating for almost a year before he got just...absouluty disgusting.

He would talk about my weight and how gross he thought my body was, pinch and pull at my hips that he thought were too wide or too soft for him. he would yell and scream for hours upon hours about how it was my fault he was angry. how I had made him so crazy every day, and how much he hated me. I remember slowly seeing his eyes get darker and darker as the time went on.

It wasn't bad at first, just the pushing and the shoving, but then he got angrier. He even hated my accent, said I sounded like southern white trash, which really hurt my southern soul.