Perfectly Imperfect Life

Olivia Quinn (ch 2)

my name is Olivia Quinn, 18 years old and a crazy bitch. that's right, call me the bb in town. it means baddest bitch duh.

Ever since I was little my family disowned me like I'm trash. how am I still alive today? that's because I keep obeying their rules back then.

but look at me now, breaking all the rules because it's no fun being obeyed like a robot. even though my attitude is shit, it's still pretty lonely being alone. isn't it weird? that I could actually have friends if I stop being this bad girl.

but my pride isn't that low. why would I try to be someone that isn't me? if they can't handle my personality it's not my business nor my fault. if they can't accept me for who I am, then who's going to adjust? me having this permanent bad bitch personality or those people that are stupid enough to not know the meaning of acceptance and sincerity?

It irritates me so much to the point that I want to pull their hair until it yeets off of their head.

I'm not a normal teenager. I have problems. problems that some cannot relate to. whenever my parents look at me, they see shit. whenever my siblings look at me, they see shit.

my life is full of shit in my own home. but when I'm outside minding my OWN business, I feel free. like I'm flying in the air.

but at the back of my head, it keeps telling me that I'm still held captive by this monstrous family.

my freedom has limits. my words have limits. everything about my life has limits. when will I get to experience something that has no limits?

maybe I'm thinking too much. crazy, isn't it? unlimited freedom? I doubt it ever exists. think about it. the outside world is like living chaos. it scares me.

every day when I wake up, I think about what to do today. Eat, shower, school, computer shop, arcade, home, eat, shower, sleep, and repeat.

same old routine. I'm about to die if this keeps going. never been to someone else's house or even go to the mall for shopping. my clothes are really dark. I don't think I own a pair of light-colored clothes.

I'm not an emo. just because I wear dark clothes doesn't mean I am emo. and people that are emo are like one of the most chill people ever. you can judge them if you want but that was their decision to be someone that they want to be.

I want to be like that as well, but it's funny because I already am the person I wanted to be, but I can't even find a single hint of happiness because I'm lonely.