My name is Emma; I’ve decided that maybe writing down my problems would be better than going to see a counsellor.
I’ve always had a fear of counsellors and any kind of doctor.
I’m scared of everyone, I’ve been hurt so many times, I can’t and don’t trust anyone anymore.
I’ve had a lot of problems at my school lately, my grades are dropping. I have no more friends. My family thinks it’s because I’m bored of this town or something.
My Parents think it’s a good idea to move, to start fresh, they think I’ll magically get better grades, and be happy. That’s not how works, they don’t understand that it’s way more serious than just moving away and everything being better.
I can’t blame them for thinking that. They know barely anything about me anymore. I’ve kept how I’ve been feeling to myself lately. How I feel now, I wouldn’t care if I just died, if I was just gone. I’m not just bored of this town, I’m bored of life, and I see no purpose in life. It’s sad how I’m only 16 and want life to be over already.
“Are you all done packing up your room?” My mom asks. I ignore her question; I’ve been trying to make it so we don’t move for the last week, avoiding any questions about it, avoiding packing. “Emma...”
“No.” I reply. I grab my books off the counter and run up to my room. I slam my door closed and sigh.
Do they not see that I don’t want to move? Do they not understand that it won’t do anything?
I know, I sound like every other teenager, snobby. Thinking only about myself, but that’s not the case here. My parents just really don’t understand what’s going on with me; they think new things and money can fix my problems. That’s not what I want, I want someone to understand, someone to actually pay attention to me and my emotions. My mom and dad could care less how I’m feeling, they believe good parenting means, buying your kids a bunch of things, and somehow that is supposed to keep us happy.
I look over at the empty boxes sitting against the wall, just waiting for me to put my things in them, I refused to pack, I just saw no point, I don’t understand how moving will just fix everything.
It was almost 8 am, I really didn’t want to go to school today, because I knew the second I leave the house my mom will come in my room and pack my things, but oh well, less work for me. I still haven’t gotten ready for school, I spent all morning lying in bed just thinking as the time went by.
I quickly got up and put on a band tee-shirt, Pierce the Veil of course; they are one of my favorite bands. I grabbed my black ripped jeans off of the floor; I wear mostly all black every day. I walked over to my full length mirror and looked at my reflection, I hated how I looked, I’ve complete given up on trying to look good, it never worked anyways. I ran my fingers through my long brown hair, I grabbed my mascara off of my desk and applied a little bit onto my eye lashes. I loved my eyes though, they were this ocean blue, that was really the only thing I liked about myself.
I grabbed my book bag off of my bed and walked out of my room trying to avoid my whole family. I was just about out the door when I heard my mom talking to my dad about me; I stopped in my tracks to listen in,
“I don’t understand why it’s so hard for her just to listen.” I hear my mom say in an annoyed tone.
“I know, we give her everything she wants, but she still doesn’t seem happy. What a brat.” My father blurts out in his asshole tone. They probably knew I could hear them the whole time, or they wanted me to hear, because they were talking louder than usual. I opened the door and slammed it closed behind me; I was extremely frustrated with how my parents thought of me.
I walked to the bus with my headphones in, trying to block out everything around me. I got on the bus and sat up front like usual, the popular kids sit near the back of the bus, I wasn’t welcome back there.
I tried to lay low today, not really talk to anyone, I wanted to just be one of those kids in the background, quietly watching everyone else. That basically was me every day anyways. The day went by fast, I was glad, I hated everything about school. The cliques, the teachers, the work; I couldn’t wait to get out of here.
School was terrible as always. My grades were still dropping insanely; I can’t help it, I can’t seem to focus anymore.
It was finally here, we were moving.
I got in the moving truck and took my phone out, plugged my headphones and drifted away in to a light sleep, just to pass the time. I could hear my parents quietly gossiping about me; I wasn’t fully asleep, but they didn’t know that. Hours went by as if they were minutes.
We made it to California; it was really just a bunch of skinny girls showing off their bodies in short shorts and tank tops. Nothing special, nothing like what people say it’s going to be like.
We pulled up to this huge beach house, I took my headphones out.
“Are we at the right house?” I said quietly while looking around, taking in all the new scenery.
“Yep, this is it” My dad said with a smile on his face. I couldn’t believe how huge this house actually was. I jumped out of the truck and ran to the front door, and swung it open. It was a very nice house; I walked around to check everything out. I ran upstairs to pick out my room; I knew my parents would give me any room to make me happy.
I found a room that was painted dark blue, it was perfect, had a huge walk in closet and bathroom. It had a beautiful patio with French glass doors; it had a beautiful view, the ocean. I fell in love with the room in a matter of seconds; I could hear my mom freaking out about the nice kitchen.
I grabbed a light sweater and my wallet, I wanted to look around, get to know the area. I ran down the stairs, almost out the door, when my father grabs my arm, and turns around for a hug. I hug him, awkwardly.
“Now where are you going?” He asked as he pushed himself away from me,
“I’m going out,” I turned around and opened the door, I left it open behind me. I didn’t care; I didn’t want my father thinking I was becoming nice from that hug.