Insecurity {Brad Simpson au}

Insecurity is a funny thing. When I say funny I mean puzzling. What is that voice in our heads, that makes us go mad, that makes us cry ourselves to sleep, that picks out every flaw in our body? I wish I knew. I genuinely do. All I know, and I mean all I know, is that once you have it, it stays with you. Almost indefinitely. It's there when you least expect it, or want it. Like in the changing rooms, or shopping. It appears and boom instant meltdown. Living at the beach means bikinis, surfers and campfires? Wrong! For me it means hiding myself more than usual. It's kinda hard when your parents own the beach shack. And when your twin is the most popular person in town. All I do round here is draw, take pictures and write. That's it. Everyday at the crack of dawn I wake up, get on my bike and cycle to the waterfall. I sit on the damp rocks, thinking and drawing, occasionally snapping a picture. This is my haven. Somewhere only I know, and that's how I like it. But when your parents go out to fetch god knows what and leave me in charge? Instant bad idea. I'm socially awkward and unable to strike a conversation. I have one friend. Drizzle. Well her names Daisy but she prefers Drizzle. She's exactly like me, except she likes music. All I do is sit behind that goddam counter drawing. Well that was until one day everything changed.