excuses of human life I have ever seen. Over the past few weeks that I’ve been here, I’ve heard them describe me as disturbed, messed-up, depressing, and ugly. The list goes on. Mr. Blake actually told me that I would never amount to anything in my miserable existence. He’s probably right, but it hurts hearing that from someone who is supposed to be taking care of you.
Mrs. Blake ignores me completely. I heard her on the phone the other day yelling at Social Services because the first check hadn’t arrived yet. When I asked her what check she was waiting for, she said, “The check that will help me feed my family and your fucking mouth.”
I haven’t approached her or spoken to her since. I see how it is and I’m going to do what I need to do to survive this.
Part of my survival means getting acclimated to another new school. I’m walking down the hall when I hear a shrill voice from behind. “Hey, Freshie! What’s with the whole ‘doom and gloom’ look, goth-chick?”
I turn around to see a group of girls staring at me. I’m used to this. I look different and I like to wear black. It’s how I feel and it’s really all I own. I don’t fit in and never have.
“Excuse me. I’m going to be late for class.” I try to push past them. I really don’t give a crap about being late. I’m used to it, and no matter where I am, I constantly skip class.
I make my way through them, and suddenly find myself being pulled backwards by my bag strap.
“Listen here, Freshie . Try not to look at us or get too close to us because you’re diseased. You. Don’t. Belong,” Mean Girl Number One says in my face.
Hmm, this is funny, because this bitch is so close to me right now that we’re practically touching noses.
“Boo!” I yell into her face as I lick her nose. She lets go of me and stumbles backwards, swiping at her face. Good, problem solved. Now they’ll all stay away from me, I hope.
“You might want to get to the nurse since I’m diseased ,” I sneer at her and walk through the crowd that has gathered.
I hate this place. So. Much.
I’ve become self-sufficient over the past few years. I’ve learned a lot on my own without any help from anyone. And I’ve realized one thing.
Lauren lied to me.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Trina isn’t in my heart. She isn’t protecting me and looking over me.
She’s gone and never coming back.
I’m alone.
Present
Age 24
M Y PHONE buzzes next to my pillow. Shit, what time is it? I crashed hard when I got home from wandering around the city today. Alone.
I look at the caller ID. It’s Dax. Fuck, I’ve been avoiding him since I saw Tabby a few days ago. I don’t think I’m ready to tell him what happened. I hesitate, and then answer the phone.
“Yeah?” I yawn.
“Dude, are you asleep?” he asks the obvious question. “You were supposed to meet me at the High Note over an hour ago. Wake up and get your ass here already.” He sounds annoyed.
“I’m not sure I’m up for it. I’ve had a –“ I stop myself from telling him about the past few days. “I’m just tired.” I don’t want to talk about Tabby. Not now. Not with him. I’m just not ready.
“Not a good enough excuse. Get here now.” I hear him disconnect and toss my phone back onto my pillow.
Fuck. He’ll keep calling me if I don’t show up.
~
I get to the High Note thirty minutes later and see Dax in a booth. He’s alone with a pitcher of beer in front of him. That’s not what I need tonight. I walk over and slide onto the bench across from him.
“Glad you made it.” He smirks and takes a generous gulp of his beer. A waitress shows up, and I order some wings and water. “Nice to see you’re sticking to your guns, bro.”
I vowed off booze and drugs after all of the crap that went down with Stacy and the tour. I got myself into trouble a couple of times, and getting wasted was the source of all of my problems. Too many fights, too many misunderstandings and Stacy. What
Mrs. Blake ignores me completely. I heard her on the phone the other day yelling at Social Services because the first check hadn’t arrived yet. When I asked her what check she was waiting for, she said, “The check that will help me feed my family and your fucking mouth.”
I haven’t approached her or spoken to her since. I see how it is and I’m going to do what I need to do to survive this.
Part of my survival means getting acclimated to another new school. I’m walking down the hall when I hear a shrill voice from behind. “Hey, Freshie! What’s with the whole ‘doom and gloom’ look, goth-chick?”
I turn around to see a group of girls staring at me. I’m used to this. I look different and I like to wear black. It’s how I feel and it’s really all I own. I don’t fit in and never have.
“Excuse me. I’m going to be late for class.” I try to push past them. I really don’t give a crap about being late. I’m used to it, and no matter where I am, I constantly skip class.
I make my way through them, and suddenly find myself being pulled backwards by my bag strap.
“Listen here, Freshie . Try not to look at us or get too close to us because you’re diseased. You. Don’t. Belong,” Mean Girl Number One says in my face.
Hmm, this is funny, because this bitch is so close to me right now that we’re practically touching noses.
“Boo!” I yell into her face as I lick her nose. She lets go of me and stumbles backwards, swiping at her face. Good, problem solved. Now they’ll all stay away from me, I hope.
“You might want to get to the nurse since I’m diseased ,” I sneer at her and walk through the crowd that has gathered.
I hate this place. So. Much.
I’ve become self-sufficient over the past few years. I’ve learned a lot on my own without any help from anyone. And I’ve realized one thing.
Lauren lied to me.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Trina isn’t in my heart. She isn’t protecting me and looking over me.
She’s gone and never coming back.
I’m alone.
Present
Age 24
M Y PHONE buzzes next to my pillow. Shit, what time is it? I crashed hard when I got home from wandering around the city today. Alone.
I look at the caller ID. It’s Dax. Fuck, I’ve been avoiding him since I saw Tabby a few days ago. I don’t think I’m ready to tell him what happened. I hesitate, and then answer the phone.
“Yeah?” I yawn.
“Dude, are you asleep?” he asks the obvious question. “You were supposed to meet me at the High Note over an hour ago. Wake up and get your ass here already.” He sounds annoyed.
“I’m not sure I’m up for it. I’ve had a –“ I stop myself from telling him about the past few days. “I’m just tired.” I don’t want to talk about Tabby. Not now. Not with him. I’m just not ready.
“Not a good enough excuse. Get here now.” I hear him disconnect and toss my phone back onto my pillow.
Fuck. He’ll keep calling me if I don’t show up.
~
I get to the High Note thirty minutes later and see Dax in a booth. He’s alone with a pitcher of beer in front of him. That’s not what I need tonight. I walk over and slide onto the bench across from him.
“Glad you made it.” He smirks and takes a generous gulp of his beer. A waitress shows up, and I order some wings and water. “Nice to see you’re sticking to your guns, bro.”
I vowed off booze and drugs after all of the crap that went down with Stacy and the tour. I got myself into trouble a couple of times, and getting wasted was the source of all of my problems. Too many fights, too many misunderstandings and Stacy. What
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