Thanks for the memories
Chapter one
June 6, 1994, my birth. My mother never meant to have me. Never did. My father's condom apparently broke so they were stuck with me. A babygirl. I had short brown hair with amber eyes. But when I was born, I had blue with a light brown lining around my pupil. The doctors never could figure that part out. My eyes changed quicker than most babies. My eyes changed a week earlier than they were supposed to. That's why I get picked on, I tell that story and no one believes me. They call me "Weirdo", "fake", etc.
Though my mother left and my father is a total drunk, I get on my life just fine. I'm quiet in class and do as I'm told. I had to learn to cook on my own. I never burnt anything like I had the talent for cooking یا something. Who knows? What was the purpose of my life? I had glasses and considered a geek, though I wasn't super skinny یا fat. I was fit and healthy. Not really built but didn't care since I never played any sports. My dad hit me the other night but didn't matter. I got hit every night and covered it with little make up. سے طرف کی the time I got home, the make up got worn off. I didn't know if kids saw the bruises since I was very pale.
When I returned ہوم that دن from school, I ran upstairs before my father saw me. I heard his girlfriend and him making out loudly in the living room when I got to the middle of the steps. Then their sounds went to a blur when I reach my bedroom. I threw my backpack on the ground and sat on my bed. Friday night. Nothing to do, really. There was a party going on and the مقبول kids were going. They purposely say it in front of me to get me jealous. I don't really. I never tried drugs یا anything. I probably never would.
I stared at my backpack. No homework. My teacher usually did but today she didn't. I was 17 years old and wanted homework on a friday night.
"Why am I even living?" I whispered to myself. I went to my dresser and opened one of the drawers slowly. I pulled out a چھری I looked at everyday, wondering what it would be like to end my life totally. I went back to my بستر and placed the blade above my main artery in my wrist. I bite my lip and took one last breath until...
"VISE JENNA LUTH!!!!" I jumped slightly when my named was called سے طرف کی my father. Vise is a roman name, I never memorized exactly what it meant but I guess it was pretty. It was like saying "vase" then with an "a" after it. I know, differently spellings.
I quickly put the چھری away and ran down the steps. My feet carried me to the living room where my father was waiting. His blue eyes sharp as his short black hair that went to the middle of his forehead. I smiled weakly at him.
"Yes daddy?" I asked quietly. His girlfriend was dressed in short clothing. Her make up was way too overdone. She was wearing mostly pink. She had small boobs like a 5th grader's and her panties were almost showing. I never looked there but they were clearing visible to anyone.
"Call me 'father' and آپ know that. Sydney wants a drink, go get her one," my father demanded.
I nodded and walked to the باورچی خانے, باورچی خانہ that was across the hall. I got Sydney, my father's girlfriend, a drink. A بیئر bottle. Two at that. I knew my dad was asking for one also.
When I got the hallway, my feet stopped and made me trip. I fell silently. The بیئر bottles landing upright and perfectly fine when my fingers spread from one another. I gasped.
"Vise?" my father called. I quickly got back up on my feet and grabbed the بیئر bottles. Shoving the bottles to my father, I ran back up the steps quicker than I normally could. Weird. I shrugged it off.
Shutting the door then going to the dresser once more, I sighed. I was ready, finally. All alone. Hopefully no distractions. My hand gripped on the handle of my drawer and slid it open. Wait...
My eyes widened. Where was it?!? I searched my whole drawer then my dresser, trying to find the knife.
Then I heard my بستر creaked. I turned.
A teenager girl with bright yellow wings sitting on my bed. She had long white hair and icy blue eyes. She held up my knife. Her wings weren't like angel wings but مزید lighter, probably silenter.
"Looking for this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow?
To be continued...
Chapter one
June 6, 1994, my birth. My mother never meant to have me. Never did. My father's condom apparently broke so they were stuck with me. A babygirl. I had short brown hair with amber eyes. But when I was born, I had blue with a light brown lining around my pupil. The doctors never could figure that part out. My eyes changed quicker than most babies. My eyes changed a week earlier than they were supposed to. That's why I get picked on, I tell that story and no one believes me. They call me "Weirdo", "fake", etc.
Though my mother left and my father is a total drunk, I get on my life just fine. I'm quiet in class and do as I'm told. I had to learn to cook on my own. I never burnt anything like I had the talent for cooking یا something. Who knows? What was the purpose of my life? I had glasses and considered a geek, though I wasn't super skinny یا fat. I was fit and healthy. Not really built but didn't care since I never played any sports. My dad hit me the other night but didn't matter. I got hit every night and covered it with little make up. سے طرف کی the time I got home, the make up got worn off. I didn't know if kids saw the bruises since I was very pale.
When I returned ہوم that دن from school, I ran upstairs before my father saw me. I heard his girlfriend and him making out loudly in the living room when I got to the middle of the steps. Then their sounds went to a blur when I reach my bedroom. I threw my backpack on the ground and sat on my bed. Friday night. Nothing to do, really. There was a party going on and the مقبول kids were going. They purposely say it in front of me to get me jealous. I don't really. I never tried drugs یا anything. I probably never would.
I stared at my backpack. No homework. My teacher usually did but today she didn't. I was 17 years old and wanted homework on a friday night.
"Why am I even living?" I whispered to myself. I went to my dresser and opened one of the drawers slowly. I pulled out a چھری I looked at everyday, wondering what it would be like to end my life totally. I went back to my بستر and placed the blade above my main artery in my wrist. I bite my lip and took one last breath until...
"VISE JENNA LUTH!!!!" I jumped slightly when my named was called سے طرف کی my father. Vise is a roman name, I never memorized exactly what it meant but I guess it was pretty. It was like saying "vase" then with an "a" after it. I know, differently spellings.
I quickly put the چھری away and ran down the steps. My feet carried me to the living room where my father was waiting. His blue eyes sharp as his short black hair that went to the middle of his forehead. I smiled weakly at him.
"Yes daddy?" I asked quietly. His girlfriend was dressed in short clothing. Her make up was way too overdone. She was wearing mostly pink. She had small boobs like a 5th grader's and her panties were almost showing. I never looked there but they were clearing visible to anyone.
"Call me 'father' and آپ know that. Sydney wants a drink, go get her one," my father demanded.
I nodded and walked to the باورچی خانے, باورچی خانہ that was across the hall. I got Sydney, my father's girlfriend, a drink. A بیئر bottle. Two at that. I knew my dad was asking for one also.
When I got the hallway, my feet stopped and made me trip. I fell silently. The بیئر bottles landing upright and perfectly fine when my fingers spread from one another. I gasped.
"Vise?" my father called. I quickly got back up on my feet and grabbed the بیئر bottles. Shoving the bottles to my father, I ran back up the steps quicker than I normally could. Weird. I shrugged it off.
Shutting the door then going to the dresser once more, I sighed. I was ready, finally. All alone. Hopefully no distractions. My hand gripped on the handle of my drawer and slid it open. Wait...
My eyes widened. Where was it?!? I searched my whole drawer then my dresser, trying to find the knife.
Then I heard my بستر creaked. I turned.
A teenager girl with bright yellow wings sitting on my bed. She had long white hair and icy blue eyes. She held up my knife. Her wings weren't like angel wings but مزید lighter, probably silenter.
"Looking for this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow?
To be continued...
I write what i feel and try to
make them seem so-real to
you, but all آپ want from me
is honesty.
as i write out the facts
آپ act like آپ don't really
care where my دل truly is.
Let me tell آپ where it
is, it's in the honesty of my
poetry, deep inside my دل
it's the only thing that reveals
the emotions deep down inside
my soul.
as i hold onto the emotions
that creates honest poetry
that i write, i see آپ looking
at my private diaries understanding
who i want to be.
آپ look at me and آپ
seem to know what i'm
feeling as i'm revealing
to آپ the emotions that
comes from within my
soul.
as i hold the key to this
honest poetry that i compose
آپ seem to believe every-little
detail that i have to say to you.
make them seem so-real to
you, but all آپ want from me
is honesty.
as i write out the facts
آپ act like آپ don't really
care where my دل truly is.
Let me tell آپ where it
is, it's in the honesty of my
poetry, deep inside my دل
it's the only thing that reveals
the emotions deep down inside
my soul.
as i hold onto the emotions
that creates honest poetry
that i write, i see آپ looking
at my private diaries understanding
who i want to be.
آپ look at me and آپ
seem to know what i'm
feeling as i'm revealing
to آپ the emotions that
comes from within my
soul.
as i hold the key to this
honest poetry that i compose
آپ seem to believe every-little
detail that i have to say to you.
