simple life.

why does life have to be so complicated? why..


2. Chapter 1.

I sigh softly as i scan through the documents of my computer. I swear i had already started one of these stories about my life, but there was no sign of its existence as i sift through the documents. After all this talk to my therapist about having written my emotions on paper and writing my own story which captured my world throughout it, i thought i might actually give it a go. I had already spun a silk thread of hope through my therapist after all, maybe it was a good idea to do it and try. Especially after seeing the delight over her featureless face when i told her i did so, she just seemed to light up and squeal for joy in a praise that made me cringe. Even though i knew she meant well, i didn’t really want her help.   

Another sigh slipped from my lips as i pick up my phone that vibrated against the placid coloured linen which covered my bed neatly. Unlocking my password and sliding down the bar to see what had alerted it. I roll my eyes lightly and flap the cover closed in which my phone lay lazily in once having seen that it was only a reminder to eat my dinner.  Turning back to the empty document page that was illuminated over the computer screen. Sinking only deeper down in the warmth of the bed covers as my finger hover over the small keys.

 What was i to write about? Obviously my life and emotions and feelings and what not, but that was nothing interesting. You see, my life wasn’t all that bad in my eyes. yes, i had a rough time. But i decided not to rub into people’s faces to gain their sympathy. They didn’t need to give that to me when there were many other people they could give it to. I’m just a usual teenage girl, and all teenagers get struck with problems now and again. Don’t they?

I sigh loudly and shake my head lightly, allowing my brown curls to cascade down my shoulders as i slam the laptop down and shove it aside, suddenly not to fond of the idea that included writing my whole life down on paper. Instead i stand up, taking my phone in my hand and sliding in the well practised code before taping the small button of music. Now don’t start thinking up crazy ideas that I’m some sort of singer or what not. Because that is a lie, if i merely open my mouth you’ll hear that my voice was possibly the equivalent to a women version of any type of country singer. Deep and raspy. The only difference there was between us was that when i actually began to hum a tune out my voice would provoke the birds to shit in my hair in a protest for me to shut my trap, rather than gaining a stadium of cheering. No, i was certainly not a singer. I was more leaning towards the dancing type. Even though i was not a very good dancer, unlike my sister. Who seemed to just glide over the dance floor and capture everybody’s gaze. Which shortly provoked them to turn to me and question why i was not such a good dancer.  I was more of a laid back, ‘dance in the comfort and privacy of your room’ kind of girl.

I tapped on one of the songs that was on my music playlist and the music blasted through the air. I small smile twitching at the corners of my mouth as i stand up and straighten my body, before beginning to dance to the beat. This was how i liked to show my emotions, rather than scribbling them down on some lousy piece of paper, dance was a much more confronting way of showing your emotions. And it helped to get them out there. I couldn’t fight that side of the argument that my therapist claimed. I just didn’t like opening my mouth and spilling out years worth of information at the snap of someone’s fingers. I wasn’t their personal slave that they could use for amusement as they watched me splutter at the utter memories, even though i knew that all they wanted was to help me. they didn’t believe me when i told them i didn’t need their help. No, I’d much rather show my ways through dancing.

After a moment of dancing my mother comes in. An overly sweet women that becomes infatuated in your every problems and everything about you, even though i loved her dearly. I resented the fact that she had never learnt how to knock on a door before entering it. I sigh softly and look at her with an urgency in my eyes. i hated being interrupted when i was dancing, and knowing my mom she was probably stopping my to do some sort of ‘exciting’ chore. She shakes her head lightly at me and smiles softly, trying to lighten the mood.

“You sigh to much darling, life isn’t that bad” she states as she waltzes over and plants herself over on my fluffy duvet cover that covered the single sized queen bed. my brow crinkles into a frown as i watch her with my eyes and sigh again, just to prove my point.

“You make me sound like some sort of suicide kid” i mutter under my breath and fold my arms over my chest as i lean my weight over to one foot and tilting my head,

“Now what was it you interrupted me for, my dare mother” i say in a sweet tone, which only seemed to annoy her as she fidgeted on the bad. Looking at me sternly,

“Dont use that type of tone with me Lee Lee, i just wanted to ask you if you would like to bring the garbage outside for me” she says, grunting lightly as she hoists herself up and looks at me with a smile.  

My name wasn’t really ‘lee lee’. Nor was it ‘lee’ or anything like that. It was actually Rosalie. And somehow my family had morphed that into becoming ‘lee lee’. I didn’t mind too much, it was only when people other than my family began taunting me with it that i became slightly annoyed at it. But that didn’t happen often.

 I sigh again under my breath and shrug at defeat. Knowing that if a protest she'll yell for dad.. and nobody wants him to tell you what to do. . Walking over to my phone and pausing the music. Slipping it into my pocket once i had disconnected it from the permanent charger i had it plugged on.

“Alright” i mumble and send her a smile so that she would be satisfied before shuffling out of my room and tumbling to the kitchen to collect the garbage.  Glancing over at my dad and sister as they make dinner. Babbling casually to each other as my sister cuts carrots and my dad cooks steaks on the grill. i haul the garbage out of the overly sized bin and mutter a thanks for their help as they continue their own conversation and smile at me,

“No problem sis” Lesley, my sister choruses. I nod and give her a sarcastic look before dragging the surprisingly sturdy bag out of the kitchen and to the front step. Throwing it into the bin with a grunt.

“How much stuff do we even use” i grumble as i peer at the bag of garbage. Surprised at how much was rammed into the bag.

“apparently quite a lot” i hear a voice mutter from behind me as a few cans that had fell from the bag clink down into the bin. I turn my body around to face the boy that was now hauling his own bag into the bin. His eyes glancing over at me and smiled lightly.

“I hope you don’t mind, our bins were all full and i had to walk down here to actually find a bin that was relatively empty” he explains. Thrusting his hand out for me to shake after wiping them gingerly on his dark jeans. I had to say, this guy wasn’t all that bad looking. His vibrant blue eyes and dark black hair were quite the contrast to his pale skin. He looked like a usual guy from one of those romantic movies that you always watched. The guy being an outcast and the most popular girl falling madly in love with him.

“I’m Jason” he greets. I look at him in surprised but take his hand firmly, shaking it lightly.

“Rosalie” i blurt out, managing to return the smile. Apart from the look of his face, Jason seemed to be relatively normal. The fact that his clothes weren’t tattered and his shirt was tucked into his jeans neatly, made him seem like more of a posh boy than any other sort. He cleared his throat lightly, which caught my attention. My gaze returning to his which was greeted with a cocky grin,

“Like what you see there?” he taunts as i roll my eyes and huff.

“I’ve seen better” i smirk. Causing him to laugh and shake his head. Looking at me for a moment in silence.

“So Jason..” i mumble, my eyes looking through his features for a moment.

“You don’t seem like the sort of type that lives around here. Excuse me for asking but you seem like your one of those posh boys that live up in Beverly hill’s” i tease. His eyes flickering with amusement as he chuckles and looks at me,

“well, you would be correct in saying that. Maybe not ‘Beverly hills’. But i’m not from around here. I’m just visiting a friend” he explains. I frown lightly at him as I try to sift through the information I was given.

“And they made you to empty the garbage for them and walk down a couple of blocks to find an empty  bin? How rude” I scoff as he throws his head back and laughs at my statement. Looking back at me as his eyes dance with laughter.

“No, i offered.” He mumbles. “ Like a nice, civilised person does” he continues. My eyebrow shooting up,

“ mom always told me never to trust strangers. How do I know I can trust you, you could just be saying that to get me into your van.“ I mutter as I tilt my head. Awaiting his answer as he looks me over as if to find the answer in my soul. Finally shrugging after a moment.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” He says and turns away, ready to start to walk away.

“And what makes you think we will be seeing each other again?” i shoot back quickly. Planting my hands on my hips firmly as i look at him with my eyebrows raised, he was so content with himself, throwing himself around and thinking that any girl would run after him. If that’s what he thought of me, then he was wrong. He may be a handsome guy but that’s how far it went. It was only firing me up, seeing how smug he was about this situation. He turns back to me so that he was facing me. I smug smile covering his lips as he sees how fired up I am about the situation.

“I have a feeling we’ll meet again” he says lightly as I shake my head at him, smiling lightly as he looks at me, his eyes sparking again in amusement as he stares at me, awaiting my answer.  I shake my head at how smug he seemed. 

“As wonderful as you seem, my mom doesn’t say things for any stupid reason. Especially when she tells me over and over again so that it’s drilled into my mind. So when she tells me not to trust strangers, then I take her word for it.” I state and look at him with a smile on my face that had absolutely no purpose to it except for being polite.  Jason frowns softly at me and shakes his head lightly,

“Do you think I’m some sort of rapist, a criminal of some sort?” he asks. I stop and go over the option for a moment before returning his gaze, which seemed to be drilling holes into me.

“I’m not saying you are, but you could very well be” I shrug and watch as his jaw tightens. He shakes his head again and he looks at me sternly,

“I may be a stranger to you, but I do not throw women around like they are useless, i treat them with respect.” he growls, a strike of anger flickering through his eyes. Taking a step closer to me and glaring down at me, using his height as a clear advantage.

“For all I know, you’re the criminal in this situation” he sneers and bores holes into me. i snort at him and stifle a laugh as his eyes only deepen with colour. Flaring another angry streak at me.

“Says the one towering over me with anger stricken in his eyes” I tease and look up at him, “I think you should go home Jason” I state before he could say anymore and nudge his shoulder so I could get past. Not having realised how close we were before and squeezing out of the small gape that was made between Jason and the brick wall of my house.

I hear a soft grunt and a muttering of words that I couldn’t quite hear before footsteps angrily stomping away. I glance over my shoulder and watch silently as Jason descends down the road before stomping into the house myself, still riled up from the conversation earlier with Jason.

“What an ass” I grumble to myself, knowing very well that this wasn’t over. Even if I had high hopes it being so. Both Jason nor I seemed like the type to back down so easy, and it was clear in my eyes that this wasn’t over yet.  



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