Diary of a Doll (on hold)

Even dolls aren't perfect.

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Jenna's eyes snapped open as her body shot up from her sleeping position. She sat on the edge of her bed thinking about it. Re-visiting the hell of what her subconscious was presenting to her while she slept. As she got up and stretched she noticed it was 6 in the morning. This was a normal thing for her. She wakes up from a dream at the crack of dawn every morning, even on school days. She yawned and walked to her bathroom where she washed her face and changed. She grabbed her diary from her dresser along with a pen from her desk. 

Dear Diary, 

I've just experienced another horrible dream. It all seemed so real. In this 'dream' I was dead. I committed suicide. No one cared. I was still on Earth as a ghost. I went to my school, and no one even cared or acknowledged that I was dead. Of course I've had dreams about death many times before and according to my research it's just a reflection of a person's unexpressed anxiety and stress. I never talk about my feelings to anyone because I feel that no one really cares. I just bottle it all up and write it all here. It helps a very small majority or the time. Even when it does help, I still feel restless and depressed. I don't bother telling my mom or dad, not even my older brother. They'll all tell me the same thing. "Jenna there's no reason for you to be depressed at 16." When really there's a lot of things to be depressed about at 16. It's different for everyone. Of course for my parents, they both grew up in rich families. So if they were ever sad they got therapy, medication and everything you could imagine. They got everything they wanted handed to them. They got an amazing education, so of course now they force my grades down my throat. I don't ever get rewarded no matter what  I do. My brother gets everything, yet he's the biggest fuck up I've ever encountered. He got a girl pregnant at 14. But of course at the time my parents were still wealthy as hell and paid for the abortion (which my grandparents flipped out over because they're Catholic). Anyways I should probably get ready for school. 

She closed her diary and put it back in her dresser. She decided that she would wear something simple for the day. She looked at herself in the mirror in her bathroom and smiled.

"Fake." She said. She shook her head and opened her drawer where her makeup was. She put concealer over her bags, pores, and minor acne. Then her foundation, then powder. To coordinate with her outfit, she put some gold eye shadow. Finally she filled in her eyebrows. She wrapped her hair in a bun and grabbed her bag. 

"Mom I'm leaving for school!" She yelled before grabbing her shoes. 

"You don't have school right now." Her mom, Samantha said. Jenna looked at her mom with a confused face. 

"Late start." Samantha said. Jenna sighed and walked back upstairs. 

"Jenna." 

"Wh- I yes?" 

"Why don't you ever spend time with us anymore?" She asked. Anymore? What's that suppose to mean. I don't recall ever spending time with them. And the times my parents took me to the store and said to get whatever I wanted when I was younger doesn't count, she thought to herself. Jenna knew exactly what her mom was doing. Guilt trip. Her mom's eyes started to tear up. 

"School's just tiring, mom, I'm sorry." She said as she marched up the stairs again to get away from her mom's fake tears. Jenna threw her bag into her closet and shoved her Ipod onto it's dock. She shuffled one of her favorite playlists and cleaned her room while the music echoed in her room. Jenna knows her brother hates the music she listens to so she makes sure to play it extra loud.

Most people at her school never see this side of her. Where she's actually happy. Singing to her favorite songs, banging her head back and fourth, jumping on her bed, playing the air guitar.

One of her favorite Paramore songs started and she smiled, and she knew by heart it was real. Little things that are important to her actually make her smile.  Soon Jenna's happiness was ruined. Her bedroom door swung open.

"Jenna how the hell do you listen to this shit? It fucking sucks!" Jerry, her brother said. 

"Go away, it's better than the shit you call music." 

"How?" 

"Well my music has meanings behind the songs. They're not just about fucking bitches and getting money." Jenna saw that Jerry was trying to think of a better comeback but he was cornered.

"Whatever." He said, then slammed her door shut. She stuck her middle finger up and aggressively swung it around.

"Dick." She whispered to herself. 

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