Chapter 1

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  • Dedicated to Aaron Sparks. I will always love you.
                                                  

Let's pretend im Jenna Barkley.Let's pretend you are actually interested in reading about my life. Let's pretend you are interested in learning about the life of the head cheerleader of saint augustine's high which is located in a really small town called Burton in Texas.Truth is nobody cares about Burton. Truth is nobody cares about cheerleaders. Truth is nobody cares about me.I was born as Jennifer Laurena Barkley but my life was so unmeaningful that i decided to shorten my own name so that people won't find it hard to memorize it. I tried to shorten my own existance somehow. im Jenna Barkley and this is my story. A story that took place in saint augustine's high in september of 2010. Saint augustine, the most conflicted, complicated, complex, controversial place on earth. A story that started with me having it all. This is how i want people to remember me after i die, because accept it we are all going to die somehow. You might think this is a boring story and close your laptop and then go out for a walk and get hit by a car. Or you might think this is a really hot day and you want to go swimming and drown yourself in the water. Or you might be a 80 years old twisted peophile that wants to read a story about cheerleaders and die in about 5 minutes from now because of a heart attack he had due to the events happened in my story. Either way it was your choice. You were the one who decided to stop reading about my life and went out for a walk, you were the one who thought it was a hot day today and went swimming and of course you were the pervert who just had a heart attack because of your desicion to read this story and have nasty dreams with cheerleaders. 

 I look around me. I see your eyes seeking mine everywhere I look. I can tell you are just so bored with your wife/husband who is constantly whining over your smoking habit and you are just so tired of your dog bursting its sexual enstict on your foot and you are just so angry with your daughter's teen worries. I look around me and the only thing I see is sadness and despair. A state that you created. A state of nothingness.

In my dreams, I see myself wearing a disguise and with my mask on I experience the real world. People cannot see me. I am invisible. I love seeing people being themselves. I like how they think nobody watches and they unintentionally show their real face. And then my mask falls down and they see me stalking them. They blush and leave by walking fast anywhere away from me, because I am the witness because each and every one of them has something to hide. I believe that people are so overestimated. Just a bunch of sickly flowers that think water is the solution to their uselessness, ignoring the fact they are useless. They don't smell nice, nor they look nice.

I love how everybody looks back to their childhood years and think it was a wonderful experience while believe me, human, it is really hard being a seventeen years old girl. All the things I'd like to live just slip away everytime I get close to reach them.  All the words and feelings I wanted to express just get imprisoned in the unexplored, ex-spontaneous world of my semi-opened mouth. A mouth filled with anarchic teeth germinating here and there within a lake of saliva water. My words were coming out like a boat urging to express itself by exploring the whole world. A boat that would most likely end up destroyed.

Oh, sweet dreams of mine! Oh, my one and only source of independace, the only melody left in the dicordant voice of the world. The only hay I have left, to lie on and sleep my whole life off. I want to wake up in heaven between a cloud and a star, between Aristotle and Socrates, between cupid and infiniteness, between the fictitiousness and the reality of the world. Oh! dear Hell, Dante's Hell, you the definite horizon, the laugh unheard, the word mispoken.

I am a Christian who doesn't believe in God. I don't believe in paradise, either, but I sure believe in Hell. The hell of mind, the spot on the spotless desire of existing, that holds you back from living what you desire.

My parents were reading to me the Bible when I was little. I loved the symbolism implying, under the pompous paroles misleading the others to a different understanding of it. I am the only one who knows. I am the only one who knows the secret untold.

My religious parents convinced me to sing for the church. I had a beautiful voice and an even more beautiful face.I had curly black hair and those big iced-blue eyes emphasizing the symmetric sculpture of my face. My pale skin seemed deathly alive. The disguise of my dream was angelic because I really am the angel beneath devil's temptation of flesh.

I woke up in the morning, not really looking forward to my first day at school.The first day of my senior year. My legs were an extra weight added to my unconsious brain of the 7 o'clock illusion of awaking. I was feeling heavy today. I didn;t have a breakfast with my parents because they really do ruin my day.

 My mother was still trying to persuade Sara, our russian charlady, to stay a little longer today. My mother was a very lonely person. She was going throught the recovery of depression and she wanted people around her even though she didn't want to admitt it. Sara, was a young woman, though, and wanted to live her life until it's time for her to start regretting.

My father was the ordinary american expendable goodman. He had lived his whole life next to birds hoping he would be able to fly once. He then realised he was spending his whole life next to birds just to hide himself in their wings.

I drove myself to school with my best friend, Amber. I wanted to be an honour student this year, because my parents wanted me to go to college. I enter the big dignified building and saw Josh, my man. He played football.Its is just that kind of relationships that even if they end someday they always are a big part of your life. They escort you in whatever you do, no matter if you are successful or not. That kind of relationships is not made out of plastic. It is certainly fragile because of the time but it is also real because of the genuine feelings. 

My whole world started revolving around his lips again.

And then I saw a boy coming to our way. I couldn;t tell who he was. The only thing I could see was a tall and slim figure. A man. It was Aaron Sparks.

aaron.aaron.aaron.who is he anyway?i guess he's just josh's childhood best friend. he's also a football player but not a very good one. Aarons Spars is troubles. He had lost both of his parents when he was younger.He now lives with his older brother, who is the most digusting person I barely know. He gets drunk constantly, but the two of them hold a really special bonding. Someone could say that Aaron Sparks owns a wild and very special beauty under the messy brown hair and dark brown eyes. i have never seen him smiling.Not even once. His talking is so slow that it is almost attractive. I now realised I have never talked to him personally. Not even once.

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