Sitting on my bed, I couldn’t help but think about how shitty my life is, and how shitty I am. I hate everything, what an impression the world has left on a teenage girl. I’m so cynical, it’s not even funny. I feel sorry for the people who have to put up with me, I’m not exactly what you’d call optimistic and I lie all the time. I push people away; I don’t get close to people. But, they don’t understand, I lie and push people away because I’m protecting them.
Why would anyone want to get close to me, anyway? I’m nothing but trouble; a burden on their lives. I hate myself. Too many times have I sat in bed at night and counted my flaws from head to toe. My biggest flaw is my name, but fixing that is out of my control until I’m eighteen. Although, even then I’d think of it to be too big of a hassle. And, then there’s my hair.
My brown hair that has been dyed so many times I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen out yet. It's been pink, blue, green, blonde; you name it, my hair has been it.
It's back to it's natural colour now though; I’m giving my hair a break. I was thinking about cutting my hair up really short, so that it can grow back healthy. But, I soon ruled out the idea. I’m too used to having my hair almost touch my belly button, it just wouldn’t feel right.
I thought some more about how alone I am. I have no family. No brother, no sister. No father, no mother. All alone in the world, that's me. I have no one.
Okay, that’s only half true. I’ve never had a brother or sister, and now that my father’s dead, I never will. My mother, however, is very much alive. But, if anyone ever asks about her, I just respond with a simple: “She’s dead.” Because to me, she is.
Then I thought about my home town. About how it’s no different from where I live now.
Originally, I’m from New York, but four years ago after my father passed away my Mom and I moved here, “New house, new place, new life. New start.” are the only words that came out of my Mother’s mouth for the first week that we arrived here. I knew no one. I had no one. I was a wreck.
I got bullied at school –or should I say, I get bullied at school. I have but one friend, Sophia. I was in no position to try and push Sophia away when we met, she was the only one who would talk to me, and I’ll always remember that. But, even nice people like Sophia have flaws. She’s my best friend, but I just can’t trust her. See, Sophia has a twin sister, Sophie. Sophie is nothing like us…
Sophie is popular and she fits in and everyone loves her, and all that usual crap. Sophia and I on the other hand are not popular, we do not fit in at all, and everyone just about hates us. What with our ever-changing hair colour, our clothes that make us stand out, our weird taste in music, we’re basically outcasts. But, despite all of that, Sophie and Sophia are still sisters, and twins at that, and Sophia has this annoying habit of telling Sophie everything we talk about. Unfortunately, I had to learn that the hard way.
I have a harder time at school than Sophia though, because Sophia is Sophie’s sister and some people cut her some slack for that, and I’m a nobody which means nobody cares who I am.
So my school life is a mess, as is my home life, and basically I myself am a mess. I’m very strange. There’s a few things about me that the mainstream person might find… Unusual.
One; I have a lot of secrets. A lot of secrets that cause me a lot of trouble. Secrets no one knows, because no one cares enough to see that they're written all over my face, my body... My eyes. Speaking of eyes, let’s move onto number two.
Okay, so two; I never look someone in the eye. Never. It’s half of a self-esteem thing, and half a weird theory I have that the eyes are the chamber of your soul, and anyone who looks deep enough into them, will be the exact person to unravel all your secrets and will know how you’re feeling and stuff, so if I look no one in the eyes, I’m not giving anyone the chance to see into me. That way no one can see through my mask.
And finally, three; I need to have a reason for everything. Like, my favourite flower is a white rose. Not because it’s pretty, not because it’s romantic, but because I like the fact that something so plain and simple can also be one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen before. It's strange, I know. And, my favourite colour can’t just be a random colour because I think it’s pretty, there has to be a valid, more proper reason. You pretty much get what I mean now, right?
My Dad died from alcohol poisoning, but that was expected because he was a raging alcoholic. He was warned, but he didn’t listen. And I know there has to be a reason for his death, and not just the fact that he drank himself to death either.
His death caused us to move to Chicago. This also triggered my Mom’s new alcohol addiction, and ‘abusive parent side’. She used to slap me when I was younger, but she hadn’t for years until Dad died and we moved here. My mother and I were never really close to start off with, but now we act like strangers who share a house.
We can’t even talk anymore, at least before we were able to talk about something when neither one of us were in a bad mood, but now every conversation we have leads to her hitting me or yelling at me, most of the time it’s both. Let’s just say that my home life isn’t the best right now.
But music and my books, my own weapons of fantasy, are everything to me. They're the only light in my life.
I know this isn’t how it’s meant to be, though. I know Chicago holds a lot for me, just none of it has happened yet. I know there has to be a reason why we moved here, there has to be. There just has to be a better reason than ‘So your life could get ten times more miserable than it already was.’ I know there has to be something. Something is going to happen. I just know it. I can’t be wrong about this... Well, I hope I can’t.
Or at least that's what I used to think of life, I never realized how better off I was. I had been blessed with a family (no matter how bad the relationships were), a roof over my head, food to eat, a friend like Sophia, we never had any money problems. I guess all my problems were caused by myself, it was out of my control, but still I know I was the one who caused them.
But, now, I'm in a mess and I can't fix it. Everything, my entire life and being, has been taken away from me. The one thing I had, the one important thing I wanted to keep until everything was perfect, has been taken away from me at the most no-so perfect time, in the most not-so perfect way, and it just so happens to be the one thing I can never get back. Ever.
What's happening is not something mental that I can just cure after a few years in therapy. No, this is so much more. This is forever. I don't know what I can do. I'm scared, and I'm lost. I still have the same beliefs, and the same problems I had before. Except now, I have so much more on top of that, I just don't know what to do.
I don't know who I am anymore. I can't possibly have lost myself, because I never had myself, you know?
First name: Melody-Krystal. Surname: O'Reilly.
I have a name, but no identity. I have a face, but it belongs to no one. I have feelings, but no soul.
I have a heart that no longer beats. I have eyes that no longer see. I have a brain that no longer functions. I have feelings I no longer know how to feel.
Everything listed above is no longer in one piece.
I'm dead, but I'm not. I'm alive, but I'm not living. Not really.
I exist. But I don't think I have much of an existence.
Melody-Krystal O'Reilly is who I was. But, I just can't be sure anymore. The only thing I'm sure of now, is that all I am is a bruised and battered girl, who's never going to see sunlight again. I'm being forced into the darkness, to stay there for the remainder of my days. Which I know isn't going to be as long as your average fifteen year old has left.
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