Most would label me as the "typical teenager" in this day and age, but that's because they have absolutely know idea who I am. They don't know what goes through my mind every second of the day, what my home life is like or how I perceive things.
They only know what I look like, and of what others have rumoured about me. They know what they want to know.
People fear the unknown, so they guess. And assume. And judge.
Ever since my failed attempt at killing myself mid last year, people have looked at me differently. I always used to fly under the radar, go unnoticed and ignored.
Since the incident people have still ignored me, but look at me as if I'm fucking psychotic. Some sort of alien, I guess.
I couldn't give one fuck to say the least. They can all go fuck themselves, I couldn't care less of what they said or thought of me.
The only opinion that matters to me is mine.
I usually stay out until two in the morning, wandering the silent streets, my trusty cigarette between my fingers.
My mom doesn't care, she never did. She herself will come stumbling through the door at three in the morning, half naked with a bottle of alcohol in her hand. I rarely see her in that state, though.
I guess it's upsetting, having a parent that doesn't give one shit about their child. But I don't know any different, so it doesn't bother me much.
Who the fuck needs a stable home life when you have a best friend?
Liv has been the only person to put up with my shit for as long as I can remember and she's the only one who is willing to pick me up after I've fallen. She's the only person I trust, and have ever trusted.
I walk downstairs to find my mother passed out cold in the dining area, her head on the table. I stop and look at her.
Where did she go wrong in her life? How could one be so fucked up?
I shake my head and enter the kitchen, pouring myself a flask of hot coffee. Grabbing my bag, I leave the house and hop in my car, driving to the shit hole you'd call Springs High.
"You know El, maybe you should start seeing someone. About your, you know." Olivia starts as we walk towards the front gate.
"We've talked about this Liv," I sigh, tugging the strap of my bag further up my shoulder.
"I know, I know, but seriously Ellie. You need help, I don't want you to try what you tried last year. That gave me a fucking heart attack,"
I stop walking and turn to face her. "Liv, look at me, I'm going to school like every other day and I'm fine. Okay? And I'm not going to try and kill myself again, so I wouldn't keep that on your list of worries,"
"You're not fucking fine Ellie! You're not getting better, if anything you're getting worse. I'm your best friend and I'm supposed to make sure you're okay and if you're not then help you to be," She pauses and I look at her, waiting for her to continue.
"I thought this conversation was gonna take a different turn and be civilised, and you'd at least consider i-"
I cut her off, "Consider what? Getting help? Olivia, just stop while you're ahead." I force a fake laugh.
"There's this place, it's like a support group I suppose. For suicidal people. I found it and I thought you could go to it. And now, seeing the mood you're in, I'm forcing you to go."
My mouth forms an 'O' and I immediately go to argue.
"Save it, I don't care. You're going. See you at break."
She leans in and gives me a side hug before pecking my cheek, while I'm standing there growing angrier at her previous words.
Like fuck I'm not. I know Liv is my best friend and she only wants the best for me but there's certain things she can and can't control. And this is one of the things she can't, and won't.
There's not a chance in hell that I'm going to that stupid fucking group.
v v sorry if this is too short, but the chapters will get longer as the story goes on.
thanks for reading! x