I Want To Be Pretty

Chapter One:

I wish I was pretty, and that guys liked me. I wish I was the girl that everyone wanted to be. I wish I was strong. I wish I was stable. I wish I was... not me.

A sigh escaped through my lips as I laid back on my bed, throwing my arms behind me. Why couldn't I be any of those things? And most of all, why couldn't I just be happy?

I threw my hands to my face, covering my eyes and the tears that leaked from them, wishing it would all just go away. I truely hated myself. What was the worst was that I never did anything. I never did anything at all. Nothing to deserve these feelings, or these scars that I so often inflicted on myself.

Wanting to scream, I rolled over and fell asleep, hoping I wouldn't ever wake up.

Unfortunately, when the sun rose, so did I. Groaning to myself, the alarm next to my bed was beeping insanely loud, so I switched it off and sat up. Just another day in the life of a misfit.

"Lara! Lara are you awake?!" I heard my mom before I saw her and then I did, after she threw herself through the door and smacked my feet, "Get your ass out of bed! The kids need breakfast," She ordered, stroming out of my room and slamming the door.

I rolled my eyes, she was probably going to go lay back down. Right, because why should the mother  take care of her children?

As I sat up, my youngest sibling, Adam, came running in and hid his face in my knees. Closely followed were Chandler and Sophie. The three were too close in age. And I wasn't fully related to any of them. Adam was my favorite, because he was the easiest to take care of since he was merely two. Chandler was my least favorite, not that I didn't like him, he was just too much like his father and had three years behind him. Lastly, Sophie was five and acted like she was two.

My mother had a tendency to run around as she wished doing whatever she wanted with whomever she wanted. She'd never been married, and that bothered me. She wasn't setting the best example for us. And now nearing her late thirties, she was financially unstable as well as emotionally and mentally. Often times my grandmother had taken care of us for a while, that was, until my grandmother passed from lung cancer right before Adams' first birthday.

Now it was up to me. Even though I was only sixteen. I was incharge of all motherly duties. Bathing, driving, clothing, feeding, cleaning... You name it, I did it. Mother was really only serving legal purposes so we weren't sent to some weird foster house.

I Hate Her.

I swept Adam into my arms and smiled at him as he stuck his thumb into his mouth, "Want some breakfast?" I asked, he nodded, not looking at me and Chandler and Sophie jumped, yelling that they agreed. I had to hush them, not wanting them to awake my mom. They had no idea sometimes that she even existed. They called my mom or asked where she was a lot. I usually had to correct that, I didn't want people thinking I was their mother.

Downstairs, I warmed Adam up some oatmeal, his favorite, and served Chandler and Sophie toast and eggs. Chandler was quite the eater for a three year old, I had to admit. As they ate, I got a glass of orange juice, careful not to take it all, and then went into the bathroom and let down my hair.

It hung perfectly to my elbows, and my bangs swept over my face they way I liked them too. Sometimes I thought maybe I was decent looking after all, but then again... That thought never lasted long.

I heard a sippy cup fall to the ground and then Adam cried. I sighed and leaned against the bathroom sink before sulking back into the kichen. Chandler wouldn't have looked more guilty if he had just committed murder. I took his wrist and knelt down next to him, he refused to look my in the eyes.