Corrupting Anna Pain

Anna

   Nothing in life is certain, I knew that. I grew up believing in fairytales, and I thought I knew how my life would turn out. My dreams and aspirations driven by a sugar coated view of the world I lived in. growing up is the period in time when you realize that life sucks and people suck, and just because you work your ass off doesn’t always guarantee that you’ll succeed. It’s that point in time when you realize that life isn’t about succeeding, and achieving great things, it’s about learning to get by.

  The summer before my freshman year, I wrote fifteen suicide notes. That’s fifteen times that I stood on a chair with a scarf tied into a noose. That’s fifteen times that I chickened out, and didn’t step off the chair. I wasn’t living, I existed. I created a list that summer, and called ‘it reasons to live’. That list was currently empty; however the other list I created ‘reasons to die’ was a page long.

  I had what my therapists called a ‘rough past’. This one older lady that I used to go to for a while, Ms. Fritt said that’s why I’m a pessimist. She would repeat this to me every session and I would always respond with “no Ms. Fritt, I am not a pessimist, I am a realist. I see life how it really is.” She didn’t like that answer very much. I stopped going, shortly after I turned fourteen. I never found comfort in talking to a therapist anyway, if I’m being honest. It didn’t help me with anything; I found more solace by taking a blade to my shoulder.

    On my first day of High school, I woke up early to do my hair nice, as if that would make the day more tolerable. Despite my loss of all hope of making any friends, and my ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude towards the universe, I secretly still gave a shit. So, I curled my damn hair and did my makeup, and put on a phony smile. At least I could pretend that my life wasn’t slowly crumbling around me. I grabbed a cereal bar so my mom wouldn’t complain about my eating habits. She insisted that I ate too little, but I just don’t get very hungry.

                It was only seven, and I didn’t have to be at school for another hour. I guess I had overestimated how much time it would take me to get ready. So, I spent the hour writing poems on the back of one of the notebooks I had bought for school. I groaned when it was finally time for me to go. I wished I could have just stayed in my bed, writing poetry and listening to music. Unfortunately, I had to go to school and deal with the same people that have been teasing me since grammar school. With my backpack slung over my shoulder, I got into the passenger’s seat of my mom’s car.

      “Are you excited? It’s your first year of high school!” my mom said.

  She smiled at me brightly. I could tell that this meant a lot to her. Her oldest daughter was going to high school. I didn’t want to tell her that I honestly could not have cared less about high school, so to make her happy I put a smile on my face and nodded my head.

        “I can’t wait” I said.

 That made her happy. That’s how things always went, me making sure everyone else was happy, even if I wasn’t. Our silver Toyota stopped in front of the school, and my mom kissed my cheek before letting me out. I took a deep breath, this was it. This was highschool.