This Is My Story

|| You Should Kiss Me||

[Dedicated to BetterinL0V3 for the gorgeous cover on top!]

C H A P T E R   F O U R

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Today's a nice day, but I don't have the motivation to get out of my comfort zone that is my living room, curled into my favourite blanket, eating M&Ms while watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians. I'm not really a great fan of the show even though I enjoy making fun of their fucked up family. It's pretty twisted when you really take the time to think about it clearly: the way people enjoy watching others looking miserable to make themselves feel better. I am no exception.

I take a few M&M in my hand and begin to do the selection. I have this weird habit where I always have to sort out every color, take one of each and then place it in order of the colour of the rainbow. It's weird, I know, but I can't help it. I just can't eat all of the colours mixed up together, I guess it's just an OCD part of me.

I watch intently as Kim begins to cry and Kourtney rolls her eyes yet again and let out a small laugh. Kourtney has always been the one of the Kardashian's sisters whom I'll associate myself with.

After a couple of hours in front of the television, however, I get bored and stand up, taking my bags of candy with me in the kitchen. I can see the sun shining through my window and hear the laughter of the kids passing by and that makes me sigh. I wish I could be a kid again, not having to worry about anything, being careless and happy...

I suddenly feel empty. I miss my dad.

My dad has always been a person full of pride. He has raised me and my brother all by himself and I think he did a pretty good job, considering the fact that he never asked for help from anyone. He never smiles, never laughs and never shows any sign of happiness, but deep inside, I know that he is a man that thinks from the heart. He wasn't the kind of dad that tells you "I love you" by buying you a car, or a phone or a trip to Paris, he was the kind of dad that will choose to tell you by patting you on the shoulder and look at you with pride glowing in his deep and wise eyes. He wasn't the type of dad that will tell good things about you around people either, instead, he'll tell them about what a useless thing you are and how bad your grades are and how he wishes you were more like x person, but deep down inside, I still allow myself to think that he still loves me unconditionally, in a way that no one will ever understand.

I play with my phone, debating on whether or not I should call him. We haven't talked since Matthew's funeral. My dad is a man of very few words. I know he is devastated - he probably will be forever - but I was never taught how to comfort and letting me comfort him goes against his ethics anyway. I know that when we'll talk - and that is if he ever picks up the phone - the conversation will go straight to studies and he'll simply tell me to push harder and do everything it takes to be the number one. Surprisingly, dad didn't react when I said I wanted to become a lawyer. He always had this good idea about justice, but is repulsed by anything politic related. He doesn't like debates and like to think that he's always right, even though he'll most likely keep his opinion for himself - my dad is a very bright man, he knows how to avoid pointless arguments. That makes me wonder why he became a police officer: he always says that violence never solves anything. Why would he willingly take a job that involves carrying a gun with him all day long?

I remember once, when Matthew had beaten the shit out of a guy that dared to look down at my cleavage in a restaurant. I never saw dad this mad in my life. He brought us back home and the moment the door was shut, he began shouting at Matt for being so stupid and at me for saying nothing. I know he loves us.

I close my eyes and take a deep, shaky breath. Now isn't the moment to think about what was once my family.

I change into some sweatpants and a tank top with a thin kimono over it. I tie my hair into a high bun and put my sunglasses over my head, swinging my handbag on my shoulder. I prefer to go to the library and study, instead of rethink of the past and get lost in it, like I did so many times.