Smile :]

This is my story. Not a fictional story. Not something I made up. This is my life, from my point of view. You can go ahead and read it, if you really want to. Love, Patch.


2. Let Me Introduce Myself

My name is Emily Preston - not my real name but who cares, right? - and I come from Hull, England. It's not widely known like London or Paris or whatever, but it's home. Well, not anymore. I moved to Orem, Utah (also not known widely) and I guess, in some ways, it's now become my new home. 

Okay, first, I should start out with what I look like. Because of my recent hair cut I now have short auburn hair that's short in the back but longish in the front. It's a pain to straighten after I get a shower because it's naturally curly. I'm five foot tall. Literally. But it's not as bad as you'd think. I'm tall enough to ride roller coasters (which I hate) and small enough to crawl through tunnels ( which I love). Except for the fact that I'm stupidly self-concious about my weight. And my hair. And my face. And that I kind of look like God just put a bunch of pieces together and called it me.  I'm not disfigured. I just think I'm slightly out of proportion, like a Tim Burton drawing. 

My best friend is called Isabelle Ashton, and she's blonde with brown eyes. Her family is pretty awesome; the kind of people you gradually learn to love. There's lots of amazing things about Izzy that I could mention, but one of my favorite things about her appearance is her hair. She got the tips dyed red and it looks pretty fantastic. 

I currently live with my step-dad, Jared, and my mum Mary. It's actually okay, but my step-dad doesn't really do things unless he needs them done. And my mum is kind of a hypocrite. And she's a little (understatement) self-absorbed. I think it's genetic. 

My Dad is still currently in England. He lives with his wife, Jess, and their two kids, Michael and Marie. Michael is only eight, and Marie is three. 

Last time I called my Dad, he sounded bored. Like he didn't really want to talk to me. I was sat on the kitchen side, resting my back against the cupboards, when he called the house phone. 

I picked up.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hi, sweetheart."

And so on. I hope I'm explaining my situation well, because there's more. If you want, you can write this down so it makes sense. 

My step-dad has three older kids. Mark, who doesn't really keep in contact with anybody except his cheating/phsyco wife. He's twenty-three I think. 

Then there's Charlotte, who's is possibly the kindest person I know. She's nineteen. Her husband, Daniel, loves anime and he's a fantastic artist. He wants to be a director some day, but they're moving down to Wyoming because of his work (he works for a drilling company). They have a little boy who is possibly the most beautiful baby on this planet. His name is Jonathan. 

Last, but not least, is McKenna. She's eighteen, with blondish/brownish hair and she's currently pregnant. Her husband, Jason, works for a plumbing company and ever since they moved out, they have only visited once. 

There, that should be it. 

Now, if I'm telling the honest truth here, I have no boyfriend. And after the "event" that happened with Luke, I don't know if I want another one. 

If you want to know what happened with 'the douche that shall not be named' then just comment below. 

I think there's one sole reason why I don't like the boys at my school. Or the boys in Utah, really. Or anywhere. 

I'm not lesbian. I just like reading. 

Now, if you love books as much as I do, then you know what I mean. If not, I'll explain. Thing is, because I like reading, I read. And when I read, I read about these amazing, sexy, heroic boys who save the girl and always look perfect. And who, yeah, have some flaws, but are overall better than guys in real life. Therefore, my expectations have never been met. EVER.

Also, I'm forced to attend church. And for those of you who live in Utah or know what I mean, then you know that in Utah, EVERYONE is Mormon. 

Okay, for those of you who don't know what that is, go now and look it up. 

I'll wait.







Now, if you haven't stopped reading already, thank you so much. If you have, I don't blame you. But just hear me out, okay? Not that anyone really wants to read a book about someones life that doesn't include fairies or monsters or Dean Winchester strutting around without his shirt on. But that's the thing - even though my life does include that, except Dean is on my TV when I'm on Netflix - life isn't really like that.

This isn't some sort of biography, it's just. . . The truth, I guess. 


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