After the death of my father, I just don't know how to cope with life. I'm extremely depressed and have increasingly large amounts of anxiety each day. I'm moving back in with my mother who just got out of rehab, she's unemployed and is probably on the verge of living in the hell hole she calls "home". I don't understand why the social worker couldn't just fly me out to Mexico so I can live with my Aunt. Sometimes, I wish I had never been born. I think about all the little miracles that could happen if I wasn't alive. I guess these thoughts are just a swirling mess of confusion and emptiness inside of me. I don't know who I am, or what my identity is. The only thing I know is my name, age, and the story of how I managed to be living with my mom. I need an escape, I need people in my life, I just want to run away and never return. I guess this is the life of me, Celia Foxx an average teenage girl. However, I don't have an average teenage life, if I did, I wouldn't be having thoughts of suicide and everything of that nature. I am hurt, nobody understands it. Approaching my mothers house right now is the "beginning" of another cruel life, in this cruel world.
The moving truck came to a stop. I looked out the truck window and saw my mother standing on the wooden porch in front of the house. She wore her hair in a messy bun and her slender figure was accompanied by a black cardigan and yoga pants, under her cardigan she wore a detailed white tank top. She was smiling at me, and I just glared at her, I suddenly realized I had to get out of the truck someday or another so I unbuckled my seat belt, opened the truck door and hopped down. The force of my jump made me a bit muddy considering there was a downpour occurring. I had on converse, blue jeans and a typical dark green sweatshirt. My hair was in a side braid and traveled down to about mid-stomach. I went to the back of the truck an grabbed the two black suit cases that were rightfully mine and walked towards the gate that led to my mothers front yard. My mother didn't hesitate, she ran down the steps and opened the gate for me. I walked into the yard cautiously and was pulled in for a hug by my mother.
"No, you are not allowed to do that." I said as I pushed her off of me and continued to walk to the front porch.
"Celia, wait, I know I screwed up and everything, but I'm sorry." My mother replied.
"Sorry? How can you possibly be sorry! You had a choice in doing what you did, but you put alcohol before your own daughter." I cried out.
"Everyone makes mistakes, Celia. I know you'll make mistakes too." She said.
"Yeah, I did, and that mistake was not putting up a fight with my social worker." I said.
"What do you mean by that?" She asked.
"Meaning, that I didn't try hard enough to end up anywhere else besides here." I said.
My mothers face grew pale, she realized that I was hurting, emotionally and nodded.
"Alright, Celia, come on inside, it's pouring out here and I need to show you where your room is." She said.
My mother led me inside the house, the first thing you see when you walk in are stairs that lead up to the second floor. I looked around and the other entrances to the other rooms as we were prancing up the steps.
"Here we are, made it special, just for you." She said.
I looked around the coral blue room, there was a tiny chandelier above the queen sized bed, the bed was against the back wall and against the wall in front of the bed was a dresser with a flat screen on top of it. Somehow, I was very happy with the room, but confused on why she had worked so hard to make me happy.
"Where'd you get the money for this?" I asked.
"The money doesn't matter, I just thought it would be good for you to have a fresh new start." She replied.
"Let me guess, you fucked every guy on the corner to get the money for this room." I said.
She sighed, "Celia, I'm going out to register you for school." She said while making her way down the stairs.
I just sat there staring at her while she put on her coat, grabbed her purse and headed out the door. The thought of her wanting to be a good mother made me want to vomit. She had left me with my father right after I was born. I didn't have the courage in me to forgive her. I don't think I'll ever find that courage. I plopped down on my new bed, in my new room, in my new place to call home, in my new town. I was too stressed to think about anything school related so I don't know what my mother was thinking. I decided to go explore the town, I looked around for an umbrella and finally found one in a closet beneath the stairs. I headed out and looked around at the other houses, they all looked identical. I started to kick some rocks around and splashed in a few puddles. It started pour even more so I ran to a bus stop and sat at the bench. I started to think of my father and how we would take the Sunday bus to go out for ice cream. I was drowning myself in these thoughts when I was accompanied by someone.
"Hello, I haven't seen you around before." A strange teenage boy said.
"Yeah, that's because I just moved here." I replied.
"Oh, well, they call me Wes." He said.
"Who's "they"?" I asked.
"Just about everyone in town, my real name is Wesley, but just Wes for short." He said.
Wes had black hair that was gelled up and he wore a gray sweatshirt and black sweatpants. He was a fairly attractive guy, tall and broadly built.
"Well, they call me, Celia." I said.
Wes nodded, "Nice to meet you, Celia." He said.
"Yeah, same to you." I replied.
He smiled in approval, and I smiled back.
"Look, my mom is probably cooking dinner so, I'd better get going." I said as I stood up and walked away.
Wes shouted from the distance, "Bye, Celia!"
I looked back at him, nodded, then smiled. I eventually walked back home and was visited by the scent of pot roast. I walked into the house and turned into the kitchen. The whole table was set up and my plate of food was already made for me.
"Dinner time!" My mother said.
"I'm not five years old anymore, Mom. I know how to make my own plate of food." I said.
"I know, I just figured that maybe you didn't want to, I'm just trying to make you happy." She replied.
"Well, you aren't so stop trying." I said.
"Celia-" She said as I interrupted her.
"I'm going up to my room, I'm not very hungry." I said.
I walked up to my room and jumped onto the bed, I was tired, and about to fall asleep when there was a knock at the door.
"Celia?" My mother said while knocking at the door.
"Can you just leave me alone?" I yelled.
My Mom opened the door, holding my plated of food in her hand, she set the plate on my nightstand next to my bed. In anger, I swiped the plate of pot roast off the nightstand and left it splattered all over the floor.
"Celia! I know I messed up! However, that doesn't give you a fucking right to disrespect me in the way you are doing now!" My Mother raised her voice with me.
I know I was being a bitch to my Mom, but what does she expect? I know I have been hard and decided to lighten up a little bit, but I'm emotionally disturbed and she has to understand that I may be a little snappy.
"Whatever, Celia, go to bed, you have school in the morning, and you clean that mess up, you caused it, you clean it." She said. "I am trying to be a good mother, but you are not giving me the chance to be." She cried out as she closed my door.
I started to cry and just thought of Wes, he was the only one that I had one normal conversation with in a long time. I realized tomorrow that I had school and that there would be more people and new faces to deal with, so I just went to sleep and decided to be ready for whatever horrors or miracles the next day will bring.