The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty - Brendon Urie

I. Buried in Thoughts

"Watch where you're going!" Jake, the school douche screeched as I bumped into him on the bus. I lowered my head with embarrassment- I never liked being called out in public.

I sat down in the seat next to me, which of course happened to be right in front of him and his jock friend, Brian. So I got to enjoy a thrilling ride with jocks kicking the back of my seat.

I thought about what it would've been like if I wasn't so shy. Maybe I wouldn't have been afraid to stand up to them and tell them to stop. Maybe I would have some real, good friends. Maybe I wouldn't have a panic attack when I was called on in class. And maybe, just maybe, I would have a boyfriend by now.

But no, that's not the life I was given. I was given a life where even at seventeen, I have never had a boyfriend. I was given a life where I've only had one true friend, who moved in the seventh grade. And I was definitely not given a life where I could speak up for myself.

So I let people stomp all over me. It wasn't that I was bullied- but if someone were to make fun of me there was no chance in hell I would be able to stand up for myself.

I stuck my headphones in my ears and tried to block out the world around me. I searched through my music library before finally deciding on "Sugar We're Goin Down". The music was at the perfect volume so that I could no longer hear a single sound, and it was as if all my worries had washed away with the music. I would often do this when my parents used to fight. They would have screaming competitions downstairs when they thought I was asleep. My mother would go on and on about how my father was never there for me, although what she didn't know was that my father would take me out for ice cream every thursday after school. He told her this of course, but she never believed him. I could've backed him up, but I never had the courage to stand up to her. She was an alcoholic and abusive at the time, and I wasn't in the mood for a breakdown.

My father got fed up with her, and left me. I was left alone with my abusive mother until the sixth grade, when she finally decided to get some help. My father came back just this year, my junior year of high school, but I still don't feel that I can trust him. All I can think about is how he left me, a small innocent child, alone with no control over whether or not my mother would beat me.

So, I live in an environment where trust is no longer present, love is fake, and music is my only escape.