Move on.

"No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how." – Gone with the Wind.

( No full on description apart from; Hazza Fanfic. )

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1. One.

You cannot change fate, fate changes you. Although throughout the years people have tried to counteract that - make their own future, their own pathway. The question is have they succeeded in this? It's a question I've asked myself time and time again. I often do wonder that, where my life is going. Or how it's even got to be.

Everyday I create a mantra, quite a simple Mantra, really. Wake up, go to school, come back,  homework, shower, sleep. And so far it's going well. I don't want to be that little girl that lost her mother. I feel it's time to move on, but have I? Will I ever?  Everyday people come up to me and ask. 'Are you OK, Sophie?' even months later, they still ask. They don't really care, they don't want to know how I really am. So I do them a favor and say i'm perfectly fine. It's going marginally well so far. 
My father is trying his hardest, he's probably the only one that's noticed how far under I've gone. He's taken me to a doctor then therapist. I went to a few of those sessions but they stopped making appointments for me, like I wasn't damaged enough anymore.I wasn't upset it ended of anything, it just felt like another person thought I was pointless.
 I feel this pit in my stomach, I can't explain it apart from that, a pit. A never ending, or changing pit. I have my father, brother and friend Ella, but I just doesn't feel like that's enough. I never used to be this fucked up, I used to be semi-liked. I had a stable group, mother, father, even a boyfriend at one point. I have no time for this anymore - Well I do, I just feel I don't.
My mother was beautiful she had brown hair, unlike me. She had these eyes, these blue eyes that sparkled like nothing you've ever seen. She was a beautiful person, inside and out. Her laugh alone made you feel warm inside. She was my mother.
My mother and father met in the late 80's. They never really told me the details but they met in a local pup in Harlow, Essex and from what I know it all started from there. Within 5 years they married and less than two years after that my brother and I were born.
My brother Zachary was the apple of my mothers eye, I know you don't pick your favorites, especially since we're twins but, Zachary was my mothers favorite, I could always tell.
When my mum died in the last year my dad wanted a fresh start, he wanted to get away from Harlow and all its memories and pasts. I can't complain I did too.
I remember being nervous I was fifteen and scared of change especially since my mother died 6 months earlier. I suppose you could argue it was too soon to make a lifestyle change, so close to a loved ones death, but it felt right so we went with it. Our house in Harlow was quite plain, counsel  house basic. But the house in London is divine, it's a typical two story-attic house. Red bricks on the outside and white and sleek on the inside. When you walk in directly in front of you there's a stairway, then to the right a door which leads to the living room and kitchen. Upstairs there's two bedrooms, directly in front is dads room, to the right Zachary's, left the bathroom and up above in the attic is my room. I enjoy having my little space, where I can hide and do as I please. Having one bathroom is horrible though. I try to convince my father to put another toilet on-suite in my attic but he refuses to say one is enough.

I Still cut though, I still cry and do my mantra, i'm still damaged. 
But i've got to suck it up and move on.


 

 

 

 

 

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