Tragic Love

Chapter 1: Please Don't Pity Me    

This is me, Lily Evans.

I seem normal.

I have normal friends.

I have normal hobbies.Not.

Who is normal anyway?

Define normal for me and i'll go hunt for a normal person.

Let me tell you, I won't find one.

And I know it, because, no one is normal.

I'm not normal.

Your not normal.

This is my life, as told by me.

If I were to write my own summary you'd be garunteed to see the words, tragedy, dirty laundry and 'insider' in it.

But I can't.

So you won't.

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You know how some books state that they're memoirs or true diaries of somebody?

Well, in my opinion it's all a bunch of bullshit.

Why?

Well, usually if their parents die they are terribly devastated and can't go on.

Or they'll stay with an abusive person because they need them more than anything, etcetera

.

You can go on without your parents, especially if you hate them.

Your probably thinking that one could never hate thier parents, just dislike them, but you're wrong.

If your parents die and you want them too, it could be your savior.

I'll explain my theory later.

No one needs an abusive person, but if the person is mentally ill it's hard to see the true person behind the illness.

It's hard too see if it's the person's maniac self or the real self that's causing harm.

It's most often the abuser who needs the abusee.

But, what do I know right?

I've just been living in this hellhole for sixteen years now, no biggie.

That's what I keep telling myself anyway.

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No one is normal.

No one has a normal family.

Everyone has dirty laundry.

Some people share it at thier own risk, and others hide it for all it's worth.

They don't want to hide it, but thier afraid of the consequences.

It's not that they don't know what they are, it's more like the fact that they do know what they are.

You can always tell when an outsider tells a story that only an insider can understand.

Well, maybe YOU can't, but any insider can.

Dirty laundry can be anything from the fact that your ten year old brother still sucks his thumb, to the point that your entire family smokes pot.

Anything anyone else shouldn't know or your family doesn't want them to know, is dirty laundry.

Who doesn't have it?

But some is worse than others.

Some is far more lethal, while others are simply embarrasing beyond words.

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You know what's really sad?

How in books the people with the worst dirty laundry, at least have something to hold them up; popularity, looks, great friends.

But books aren't true.

In the real world there are anorexics and bulimics around every corner.

There are hideous suicidal people acting as friends every block.

Unpopular people addicted to drugs are less than five feet away from you every second.

Depressed lonely people are usually those who seem the happiest, angry people are the one's who seem the calmest.

The sad thing is none of them are ever helped.

None of them ever tell thier secrets.

No one ever learns of thier problems, for to the outside world they are happy, they are normal.

And normal is not most popular in school or most sought after person, normal is ordinary looks, ordinary status.

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If you think someone's mother is exceptionally nice, think again.

Family acts different towards eachother when there's company, then when it's just them.

You only see part of a person when thier out on daily errands.

You know how in books or movies how they make it painfully oblivious that someone is abusive, depressed, or on pot?

In our world it's not so simple, the only way you could tell is if you could become invisible and watch them when thier all alone.

You can never truly know someone enough to see the whole of them.

It's depressing, but no one ever said the truth was a happy thing, did they?

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Your now very confused, am I right?

So many questions are probably running through your head at the moment.

I feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Let me help you out...

I was talking about:

Dirty laundry: A family secret that would be considered abnormal.

outsider: someone who doesn't truly understand what goes on in an tragedy trodden family, since they've never expierenced it.

insider: The exact opposite of an outsider.

memior/diary/autobiograaphy/biography books: all completely written by fools who no not of the life of an insider, yet think they do.

tragedy: living in a drug addict, alcoholic, death, suicidal, pregnant under 16, abusive, smoker under 16, depressed, anorexic, bulimic, cutting or mentally ill or other similar environment.

Get it yet?

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What i'm saying is that I am one of those insiders with way too much dirty laundry.

Who never tells a soul about any of it for the life of her, because she does not want to be responsible for sending 67 people to jail.

She does not want to be isolated from her family because she hates them, yet she loves certain one's with bad traits.

She does not want her family to be known as the one in which everyone is in jail or prison.

Then again, if you mention the family name to a policeman they'll know who my family is and be out to get me for all of eternity.

What i'm saying is i'm here to give you the absoloute truth about tragedy trodden lives, but if it's edited down to nothing but flowers and smiles don't blame me...

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And just a little forewarning, I don't wan't to be pitied.

No normal person wants to be pitied.

Notice how I said normal person.

I know quite a few people who want to be pitied, their dirty laundry is out and waving for all to see and they really don't care.

It really pisses me off too, because others are worse off then them, far worse.

I don't necessrily mean myself either!

Don't pity me.

There are others who need the pity far more than me, the homeless for example, or the dead.

They need it.

Not me.

That was one more reason us insiders hide our dirty laundry so well.

Others are worse off and we know it, so we don't want to make a big deal of it.

Or, I don't anyway.

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Floorboard's filled with baby toys,

An' empty coke bottles an' coffee cups.

Drivin' through the rain with no radio,

Tryin' not to wake her up.

Cell 'phone says "low battery",

God, what if I break down?

I'm just lookin' for an exit with a lotta lights,

A safe little interstate town.

Just a cheap hotel,

With a single bed,

And cable TV Is good enough for me an' Emily.

Some day, when she's old enough,

She's gonna start askin' questions about him.

Some kid at school brings his

Dad for show an' tell,

An' gets her little mind a-wonderin'

"Where's my Daddy?

Do I have one?

"Does he not love me like you do?"

Oh, maybe I'll find someone to love the both of us,

An' I'll tell her when she's old enough to know the truth.

Will it break her heart?

Will she understand,

That I had to leave?

That's what was best for me an' Emily.

That house was never clean enough his dinner never warm enough.

Nothing I did was ever good enough to make him happy.

So, I guess, he gave me what he thought I deserved,

But it would kill me if he ever raised his hand to her.

Big rigs are throwin' rain on my windshield,

An' I feel like they're laughin' at me.

Fin'lly the storm is lettin' up,

An' the mornin' is breakin' free.

It's a brand new day,

It's a second chance.

Yesterday is just a memory,

For me an' Emily.

Ah.

Floorboard is filled with baby toys,

An' empty coke bottles an' coffee cups.

Least there's one good thing that he gave me,

An' she's startin' to wake up.

Me and Emily by Racheal Proctor

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I hate this song.

I envy Emily.

I myself am still stuck in the house was never clean enough, the dinner never warm enough section.

The only thing is, he'll hit anyone except me.

No matter what I say, no matter what I do, he never does it.

Sure, he'll threaten too, but he won't.

He loves me.

I know this.

But, I hate him.

I hate him, for abusing mom.

I hate him, for being an alcoholic.

I hate him, for buying and selling selling numerous cars per year illegally, then gambling off the money he makes.

I hate him, for being selfish, arrogant, and perverted.

I hate him, for never hitting me.

I hate him, for hitting my brother.

I hate him, for going to bars, shooting pool, always getting into fights. and going to jail.

I hate him, for not taking his meds properly.

I hate him for changing her, from a nice person to a bitch.

I hate him, for talking to me like i'm four, every waking second of my life.

I HATE HIM!!!

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I hate her too.

I hate her for not leaving.

I hate her for thinking he has an excuse since he's ill.

Newsflash mom, bipolar people are also known as maniac-depressive, if it's all the illness, then where the hell is the depressive side of it?

I hate her for being such a bloody hypocrite.

I hate her for being so dependent.

I hate her for being fun one instant, and a out-to-get-you-bitch the next.

I hate her for always telling me i'm extremely important to her , then saying i'm worthless.

I hate her for overlooking everything I do.

I clean the entire bathroom, my room, the living room, half the kitchen, the dining room, and do half the laundry, yet she never fails to tell me i'm a lazy procrastinator, who lays on her bum all day.

Nice, real nice.

I hate her for being so damned depressed, when I already have that role.

I hate her for lying to me.

I HATE HER!!!

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My half-brother A, on the other hand I haven't seen in five years.

He's my dad's son and as I remember he was a juvenile delinquint.

He shoplifted, he was in a gang, he was a bully, and a major troublemaker.

I don't know him anymore though.

But, from his past, i'll say he's been in jail a thousand times.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My other half-brother B, from my mom's side, lives with my grandparents.

Right down the street.

He's goth and you can totally tell.

(Not just from what he wears, what he says)

Were pretty close and basically have the same views about life.

It sucks.

We have the same views about parents too.

They're fucked up.

But, what do we know right?

Were just two kids living in our own private hell.

My grandparents are total control freaks, as well as clean freaks.

In a world of utter perfection my brother rebeled, becoming his goth self, how did they react?

They freaked, but life goes on.

From what I hear, my mom was like that too.

Only she went farther.

From what I hear, she went deeper though.

She was anorexic, bulimic, a cutter, disowned and way depressed.

I never would've thought...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My mom's side of the family except for my goth brother and herself is completely perfect.

Or so it seems.

Thier private lives are probably way complicated with all the secrecy going on.

I mean, if my private family is like it is, I can't imagine what the extendeds are like.

My fathers side is the most fucked up in the world.

For one, it's huge, there's an adoptive and a blood side.

For two, Evans is the most common surname seen on the jailhouse/prisonhouse listings, no lie.

Let's see where to begin...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Practically all the adults in the fam are alcoholics.

Practically all the adults and kids over thirteen are addicted to some kind of drug.

Coke, pot, meth, crack, you name it, someone uses it.

Everybody smokes.

All the kids have shoplifted for the hell of it, at least once.

Two of my cousins have been known to run away from prison.

An uncle and two cousins have been known to abuse thier girls.

A 'dear' uncle of mine has been known to rape young teens.

A cousin of mine has bulimia, unbeknown to everyone else.

I have two aunts and five cousins, with more than five kids each, all born before the mom's were eighteen!

My aunt Grace is suicidal, believe me, she is, I know, trust me.

No one else knows though.

My family is full to the brim with mentally ill nutjobs.

There is a party held at a family members house every friday, it's the kind of party you see on t.v.

The rock hard, bad-ass kind of party.

three cousins of mine have been caught acting as whores.

eight cousins and two aunts, have been pregnant before the age of fifteen.

The worst punishment anyone's ever gotton?

Simply a grounding, or short jail sentence.

With an occaisonal prison sentence.

Thank god, we aren't religous, because we are all going to hell.

Thank god, I'm only here for summer and holidays.

I can barely stand it now, let alone all year.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oh?

I forgot to tell you?

Well, here it is...

I'm a witch.

I practice withcraft.

I'm not a wiccan.

I'm a blood witch, not a say-it-and-be-it kind of witch.

So you could say I get a break.

But a break isn't good enough.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I want them all to die and leave me alone.

I mean, yeah, in a way being bad is fun, really fun.

But it gets old.

Partying every night, getting drunk, stoned, and having sex, is not my thing.

I prefer to hurl, slice, and mope.

I once wished they would all die.

It seems to be working.

My aunts.

A few cousins.

A lot of second cousins.

My parents.

(Did I mention that I hate them?)

Sure, I feel guilty, but I know it's not my fault.

They died from, illness, suicide, infantry, and simply keeling over, no biggie, not the wish.

The family's just as big and loud as ever, anyway.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've never told anyone this much about my family, before.

Why?

Like I said before, others are worse off then me and I know it.

Plus, I don't want to sound selfless and pity pleading.

(I do though don't I?)

Welcome to my fucked up family everyone, glad you could make it to my life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the way, FYI, IF, I'm not offended by the words 'gay' ,' retard', 'crazy', 'insane', 'mental', 'anorexic' etc. etc.

Like books and crappy movies say we are...

No one I know has ever burst out in tears, or gotton all huffy.

As far as I know no one else in the fam is bothered in the least by it either.

In all reality, we use the words everyday.

Not just in refering to a cousins real problems either...

More like teasing insults.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To the outside world, though, we are a perfect family.

Even to the extended family we are!

We know about thier problems, because they help one another when thier down, and thier not afraid of our judgement from others...

Thier not afraid to let others help them.

Mom is afraid.

She's afraid they'll judge us, if we tell them our problems.

Who are they to judge us?

I mean, look at them.

They are just like us.

The extends, that is.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All the damn secrecy, is killing us, ripping us to shreds.

We are dying, but no one knows.

Because, we seem perfect.

To everyone, we are perfect.

But in reality, we are everything but.

No, I am everything but.

There is no longer a we, and I know it.

I love it.

Being an I, for once.

I love it.

And i'm going to hell for it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Welcome.

Welcome to the Evans family.

Floorboard's filled with baby toys,

An' empty coke bottles an' coffee cups.

Drivin' through the rain with no radio,

Tryin' not to wake her up.

Cell 'phone says "low battery",

God, what if I break down?

I'm just lookin' for an exit with a lotta lights,

A safe little interstate town.

Just a cheap hotel,

With a single bed,

And cable TV Is good enough for me an' Emily.

Some day, when she's old enough,

She's gonna start askin' questions about him.

Some kid at school brings his

Dad for show an' tell,

An' gets her little mind a-wonderin'

"Where's my Daddy?

Do I have one?

"Does he not love me like you do?"

Oh, maybe I'll find someone to love the both of us,

An' I'll tell her when she's old enough to know the truth.

Will it break her heart?

Will she understand,

That I had to leave?

That's what was best for me an' Emily.

That house was never clean enough his dinner never warm enough.

Nothing I did was ever good enough to make him happy.

So, I guess, he gave me what he thought I deserved,

But it would kill me if he ever raised his hand to her.

Big rigs are throwin' rain on my windshield,

An' I feel like they're laughin' at me.

Fin'lly the storm is lettin' up,

An' the mornin' is breakin' free.

It's a brand new day,

It's a second chance.

Yesterday is just a memory,

For me an' Emily.

Ah.

Floorboard is filled with baby toys,

An' empty coke bottles an' coffee cups.

Least there's one good thing that he gave me,

An' she's startin' to wake up.

Me and Emily by Racheal Proctor

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hate this song.

I envy Emily.

I myself am still stuck in the house was never clean enough, the dinner never warm enough section.

The only thing is, he'll hit anyone except me.

No matter what I say, no matter what I do, he never does it.

Sure, he'll threaten too, but he won't.

He loves me.

I know this.

But, I hate him.

I hate him, for abusing mom.

I hate him, for being an alcoholic.

I hate him, for buying and selling selling numerous cars per year illegally, then gambling off the money he makes.

I hate him, for being selfish, arrogant, and perverted.

I hate him, for never hitting me.

I hate him, for hitting my brother.

I hate him, for going to bars, shooting pool, always getting into fights. and going to jail.

I hate him, for not taking his meds properly.

I hate him for changing her, from a nice person to a bitch.

I hate him, for talking to me like i'm four, every waking second of my life.

I HATE HIM!!!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hate her too.

I hate her for not leaving.

I hate her for thinking he has an excuse since he's ill.

Newsflash mom, bipolar people are also known as maniac-depressive, if it's all the illness, then where the hell is the depressive side of it?

I hate her for being such a bloody hypocrite.

I hate her for being so dependent.

I hate her for being fun one instant, and a out-to-get-you-bitch the next.

I hate her for always telling me i'm extremely important to her , then saying i'm worthless.

I hate her for overlooking everything I do.

I clean the entire bathroom, my room, the living room, half the kitchen, the dining room, and do half the laundry, yet she never fails to tell me i'm a lazy procrastinator, who lays on her bum all day.

Nice, real nice.

I hate her for being so damned depressed, when I already have that role.

I hate her for lying to me.

I HATE HER!!!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My half-brother A, on the other hand I haven't seen in five years.

He's my dad's son and as I remember he was a juvenile delinquint.

He shoplifted, he was in a gang, he was a bully, and a major troublemaker.

I don't know him anymore though.

But, from his past, i'll say he's been in jail a thousand times.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My other half-brother B, from my mom's side, lives with my grandparents.

Right down the street.

He's goth and you can totally tell.

(Not just from what he wears, what he says)

Were pretty close and basically have the same views about life.

It sucks.

We have the same views about parents too.

They're fucked up.

But, what do we know right?

Were just two kids living in our own private hell.

My grandparents are total control freaks, as well as clean freaks.

In a world of utter perfection my brother rebeled, becoming his goth self, how did they react?

They freaked, but life goes on.

From what I hear, my mom was like that too.

Only she went farther.

From what I hear, she went deeper though.

She was anorexic, bulimic, a cutter, disowned and way depressed.

I never would've thought...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My mom's side of the family except for my goth brother and herself is completely perfect.

Or so it seems.

Thier private lives are probably way complicated with all the secrecy going on.

I mean, if my private family is like it is, I can't imagine what the extendeds are like.

My fathers side is the most fucked up in the world.

For one, it's huge, there's an adoptive and a blood side.

For two, Evans is the most common surname seen on the jailhouse/prisonhouse listings, no lie.

Let's see where to begin...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Practically all the adults in the fam are alcoholics.

Practically all the adults and kids over thirteen are addicted to some kind of drug.

Coke, pot, meth, crack, you name it, someone uses it.

Everybody smokes.

All the kids have shoplifted for the hell of it, at least once.

Two of my cousins have been known to run away from prison.

An uncle and two cousins have been known to abuse thier girls.

A 'dear' uncle of mine has been known to rape young teens.

A cousin of mine has bulimia, unbeknown to everyone else.

I have two aunts and five cousins, with more than five kids each, all born before the mom's were eighteen!

My aunt Grace is suicidal, believe me, she is, I know, trust me.

No one else knows though.

My family is full to the brim with mentally ill nutjobs.

There is a party held at a family members house every friday, it's the kind of party you see on t.v.

The rock hard, bad-ass kind of party.

three cousins of mine have been caught acting as whores.

eight cousins and two aunts, have been pregnant before the age of fifteen.

The worst punishment anyone's ever gotton?

Simply a grounding, or short jail sentence.

With an occaisonal prison sentence.

Thank god, we aren't religous, because we are all going to hell.

Thank god, I'm only here for summer and holidays.

I can barely stand it now, let alone all year.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oh?

I forgot to tell you?

Well, here it is...

I'm a witch.

I practice withcraft.

I'm not a wiccan.

I'm a blood witch, not a say-it-and-be-it kind of witch.

So you could say I get a break.

But a break isn't good enough.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I want them all to die and leave me alone.

I mean, yeah, in a way being bad is fun, really fun.

But it gets old.

Partying every night, getting drunk, stoned, and having sex, is not my thing.

I prefer to hurl, slice, and mope.

I once wished they would all die.

It seems to be working.

My aunts.

A few cousins.

A lot of second cousins.

My parents.

(Did I mention that I hate them?)

Sure, I feel guilty, but I know it's not my fault.

They died from, illness, suicide, infantry, and simply keeling over, no biggie, not the wish.

The family's just as big and loud as ever, anyway.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've never told anyone this much about my family, before.

Why?

Like I said before, others are worse off then me and I know it.

Plus, I don't want to sound selfless and pity pleading.

(I do though don't I?)

Welcome to my fucked up family everyone, glad you could make it to my life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the way, FYI, IF, I'm not offended by the words 'gay' ,' retard', 'crazy', 'insane', 'mental', 'anorexic' etc. etc.

Like books and crappy movies say we are...

No one I know has ever burst out in tears, or gotton all huffy.

As far as I know no one else in the fam is bothered in the least by it either.

In all reality, we use the words everyday.

Not just in refering to a cousins real problems either...

More like teasing insults.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To the outside world, though, we are a perfect family.

Even to the extended family we are!

We know about thier problems, because they help one another when thier down, and thier not afraid of our judgement from others...

Thier not afraid to let others help them.

Mom is afraid.

She's afraid they'll judge us, if we tell them our problems.

Who are they to judge us?

I mean, look at them.

They are just like us.

The extends, that is.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All the damn secrecy, is killing us, ripping us to shreds.

We are dying, but no one knows.

Because, we seem perfect.

To everyone, we are perfect.

But in reality, we are everything but.

No, I am everything but.

There is no longer a we, and I know it.

I love it.

Being an I, for once.

I love it.

And i'm going to hell for it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Welcome.

Welcome to the Evans family.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2: I will

No one understands why I strive to be so different.

No one even tries to.

Every day I am different.It scares them.

I notice them cower on sundays.

I feel them laugh with me on thursdays.

I watch them stare on mondays.

I feel thier sympathy on wednesdays.

But, what they don't realize is that it's my code.

My own personal code.

Every day I am someone else.

I sprout a different attitude.

I walk and talk a new lingo every day.

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To be different each day, you must be an actress.

If you strive to let people know the real you.

If you strive to stand out.

If you strive to be your own person.

You can't be me.

I am not an individual, I am a slave.

I am a slave to myself.

I'm stuck in a world of chaos, a world where i'm all alone.

A world where no one cares, about who you are, or what you feel.

They think they know me.

They think they care about me.

But, if I were to die tomarrow, they wouldn't miss me, they'd miss someone else, someone they think is me.

But, isn't.

I don't exactly try to hide myself, it just happens.

Like the sunset, it just is.

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Often, I wish long and hard for someone to care, for someone to need me.

No one ever truly does.

I'm not bieng ungrateful, it's true, no one needs me.

They need Lil, they don't need Lily.

They don't even know Lily, they know Lil.

Often, I wish upon every star, that Lil would be dead when I awoke.

I loathe Lil, I hate everything about her.

I hate her daily code.

I hate her laugh.

I hate her nature.

I hate her helpfulness.

I hate her family.

I hate her friends.

I hate her boyfriend.

I hate her perfectness.

I hate her happiness.

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I want, I need her to die, I need her to leave my body.

I feel the strain she puts on me every second, but, it's not that easy to change her.

It's not easy to change and expect to be accepted again.

Back, to your friends, back to your boyfriend.

But, they aren't my friends, they never were mine.

They were Lil's, and Lil cannot exist while I do.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't feel strong enough yet, to break away from Lil.

To admit my problems, to admit my family's problems.

In all reality, I want everyone to know our dirty laundry, but i'm afraid.

Afraid of what will become of my family, afraid of bieng accepted because of pity.

I don't want that, that's worse then bieng accepted because of your style.

There are people worse off in my school, i'm afraid they'll think I want pity.

I'm afraid they'll think I believe, that I'm worse off then them.

I don't want them to think that, so i'll go on, i'll let Lil posess me for a while more.

I'll let Lil solve others problems, before her own.

That has and always will her way, but will it be mine?

Will it be Lily's?

I don't know.

I don't know if i'll ever know.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

My life and it's tragedy, goes beyond my family.

It goes deep down into the depths of my own soul.

I have my own problems.

Problems that at times I can't control.

That at times I feel haunted by.

I feel as if I can never let go of them.

As if I can never find my way back, back to the bliss that used to be in my life.

Might as well say, that I want to be five again.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't want to understand the world, as I do now.

I want to understand it as I used to, simple.

My problems engulf me, they swallow me whole and never let me go.

They stalk me around every corner, they stalk me no matter how many miles I go.

They drive me crazy, they won't ever leave me alone.

I am never alone anymore.

My thoughts, my cravings are enough for twenty people.

I wish it weren't that way, but wishes have never come true for me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've been pregnant.

I've gotten an abortion.

I've attempted suicide.

I've been bulimic.

I've cut myself.

I've run away from home.

I've smoked and I've done drugs.

I've gotten tipsy numerous times.

I'm like everyone else in my family now.

Yet, I've never gotten a single grade lower then a B+.

Sad, isn't it?

People say that when you have good grades and they suddenly drop, that something's up.

Well, mine have never dropped.

So no one complains and no one suspects a thing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm not saying that i'm proud of what i've done.

But I am not ashamed, I made the choices.

I've never given anyone a reason to suspect me of anything.

That's good for my family, but, is that good for me?

I've tried calling out for help.

I've tried so fucking hard.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've worn short sleeves the days after I cut myself.

I told my friends the truth.

Why I had been in the hospital wing?

I stepped off the tower.

How I broke my arm?

I threw myself down the stairs.

I told my boyfriend that I tossed my cookies after eating, numerous times.

But, they make excuses for me.

You got a paper cut, you poor thing!

You slipped off the tower, ow!?

Your stomach didn't agree with the food, i'm sorry.

I swear to god and merlin, that they are all blind.

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Every summer I go to a phsyciatrist.

My aunt makes me.

I don't tell her a thing.

She's probably listened to 100 people before me, complain about thier crappy lives.

She doesn't need me to add to her collection.

So I lie.

Life is good.

I am happy.

I don't smoke anymore.

She buys it.

I think she's just glad to get rid of a patient.

So I always go back to my Aunts a month early.

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I usually go clubbing with my cousins.

We are underage, but as long as we pay to get in, they don't care.

More money for them.

I care, though.

I want them to reject us.

I want them to call the police on us.

I want the police to save me from this hell hole.

I want to be a good girl again.

I want to pretend my family didn't make me this way.

But, like I said, my dreams and wishes have and will never come true.

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My life is like the worst movie ever made.

Seriously, if my life were to be made into a movie, all the viewers would complain.

"It's so unrealistic!"

"It sets a bad exaple for younger one's!"

"Oh, puh-lease, i've seen worse!"

"What kind of dranged nut wrote this thing!?"

"Hello! Where's the happy ending?"

But, they'd know, deep down that it was the most realistic movie they'd have ever seen.

They'd know that it was just like thier secret lives.

Just like thier dirty laundry.

But, my life isn't a movie.

So it won't ever happen, no one will complain about realism and life will go on.

Maybe i'll die here, before it gets any worse...

But then i'll feel guilty, leaving behind all those worse then me.

Maybe I should start a club, the 'I want to die' club.

No, too oblivious.

How about the 'Life Sucks' club?

Or not.

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I always feel so unreal when I walk down the streets.

Like, i'm disconnected from everything and everyone.

Like, I am of another species, an invisible species.

Everyone's too absorbed in thier problems, to notice others.

I realize that.

I want to make a change, i've been making a change.

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I've been bieng selfless.

I've been helping others.

In a way I don't want to.

I want to throw a fit, I want to scream and shout, I want to cry.

I want to protest,' What about me!? Does anyone care about me!?'

But I don't, I wont, I can't.

It's too dangerous.

It's like asking to be put in a mental hospitol.

So instead I help those in more need then me.

It royally pisses me off, to see them so damn happy in the end.

"Oh, thank you Lil! I finally can sleep at night without wanting to cut myself, due to all the pressure my family has been putting on me!"

Sickening really, especially since I myself still wake up in the middle of the night craving the blade.

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Maybe it's just ironic.

The one who helps others, is the one who needs help.

That sounded like I was asking for pity again, didn't it?

Telling my story turns out to be harder then I thought.

I'm not asking for pity, i'm asking for help.

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It feels like i'm in someone elses body when I speak, when I walk, when I do anything.

It feels like i've never been myself.

It feel like i'll never be myself.

I don't even know who I am anymore.

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I used to adopt peices of others and make them mine.

The way Alice writes her D's?

I do it too.

The way a classmate holds her jazz hands strong yet graceful?

I do it too.

The way Marcia would tap her pencil on the table?

I do it too.

The way my cousin says something sarcastic after someone says anything to her?

I do it too.

The way my sister always played with her ring when she was bored?

I do it too.

The way my friend rubs her ear when she's nervous?

I do it too.

The way my nieghbor cracks his knuckles every so often?

I do it too.

I guess you could say that I am insecure.

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i remember when I was younger.

I was so assertive, I had so many friends.

I had such happiness, even though my home was crap.

I was truly happy then.

I was able to look through my family's faults.

I wasn't afraid of what others would think if I wore the latest trend or not.

Lately if you wear the trend, you'll be labeled as a wannabe.

Maybe I don't want to be in.

Maybe I just like the clothes.

I remember when I was nice to everyone.

I remember when I wasn't so heartless.

Sure, i help people, but it doesn't mean i'm nice about it!

I remember when I wasn't pessimistic.

I remember when I wasn't so hopeless.

I remember when I was hopeful.

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I have no hope anymore.

Life will go on.

I can't make it better, for it is what it is.

I didn't ask for this life, it came to me.

But that's okay, someone has to live it.

Some are living in far worse conditions then I.

I must always remember that.

For if I forget, then I will be lost.

I have nothing to live for, yet I feel as if life is better then it could be.

Does that make any sense?

It doesn't does it?

Perhaps someday you will understand.

For today, it's okay to be confused.

I am.

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There's a light up ahead.

No, it's not a glimmer of hope.

It's the train station.

Today is the day I get to go home.

Home bieng the opposite of what it should be.

This year I intend to be myself.

It may throw my friends, but they'll get used to it.

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I no longer want to hide.

I no longer wish to be someone else.

For after graduation, I will be gone.

I will be far away from the hell I once knew.

I will never see them again, so help me merlin.

I will be myself for a change.

I will become who I really am, who I once was.

I will become the girl, that time forgot.

I will become inocent again.

Or so i'll say.

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Look at that, I just showed a bit of hope.

Hope that is truly worthless.

I can't just leave.

They are my family, no matter what I say, i'll always feel something for them.

Not exactly love, but perhaps a feeling of remorse.

I think i'll leave after I give them a note and personal good bye.

No matter what they say, that's too bad.

Nothing they say can make up for the loss I have experienced.

For the loss anyone like me has expierenced.

Life may get better, it may not, but what I know is this.

It will finally be my own, my own life.

I will no longer be trapped inside someone elses.

I will finally rid myself from Lil.

I will.

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