Is there a reason why people still get up in the morning? Why people still live their lives anymore? Why people work their whole lives, and then just die?
Even though I've gotten much better, these are questions I still ask myself every day. In the morning when I try hopelessly to get the knots out of my waist length black hair. On the bus ride home when I'm crammed into a seat with two other people. When I'm sitting on my balcony, hanging over the railing, letting thoughts slip into my mind about what would happen if I just, jumped…
But enough on that.
I sighed and stared at myself in my mirror. When I was younger, I had always imagined I would amount to something great. I would be someone amazing, with flawless skin and hair. An actress, or singer. Although in middle school I had about given up hope on the glamour and decided to be a Physicist. Science had always fascinated me, and plus, it was a way to escape from the outside world. Middle schoolers are kind of idiots.
But whatever I did, I wanted to be something amazing. But that all changed last year, when I realized who I was. Just another stupid teenager with bags under my eyes, a wrinkled Green Day t- shirt, and silly dreams that will never come true.
My eyes are bright blue, and my skin olive colored. I've never liked either of those features. I've always felt that my eyes are a much too cheerful color, and my skin tone, it just isn't me. If your features matched your personality, then I would have black eyes, super pale skin, hair that fell to my knees, and would be four feet tall. I'm actually a towering 5'8 .
But, what are you gonna do?
But enough with the sad, mopey talk. School starts next week, and I am terrified. I know, I know. Its senior year and I should be ecstatic and all, but I just seriously hope this year will be somewhat than last year.
Dr. Blanca says it will be, if I take the first step out of the hellhole that was Junior year. Admit and accept what happened. Don't lock it up and pretend it was never there. And so that's what I'm here to do. Tell you my story, from the beginning.
And luckily for the both of us, it begins on a somewhat happy note.