So, here it is. Another stupid fucking start of a year. Year ten. GCSE's. Sex. House parties. Cutting. Fun, fun, fun. Oh the joys of growing up. Seriously, when I was little /all/ I wanted to do is grow up, this shit was not what I imagined it as. Today, I've decided on wearing a black, frilled skirt and a white blouse. My navy tie, of course, some black slip-ons with a bow on them and knee-high socks. I'm going for the pure virgin look today, even though most of the school know that isn't exactly true. Oh well, fuck it. As 1D say; 'live while your young.' I've just gotten dressed, and curled my hair into soft brunette waves. I've been growing my hair over the holidays and know it's almost down to my hips, yay. Abby took my fucking make up bag! Seriously, she's four, she doesn't need make up. Mum, thinks it's cute how she tries to apply lip gloss and mascara. It's not. It's a waste of /my/ money, and my make up. Anyways, I've got it back now. Foundation, 'medium ivory' gee, I'm so pale. Apply a ton of mascara, then put falsies on top of that. Tad bit of lip tint, concealer on the small blemish on my chin and ready to go Grabbing my Studded Denim Backpack, I shout to Mum, "Bye!" As I slam the door.
Sitting by the bust stop now, seriously how long does it take for a stupid bus to arrive. Shit, /there/ here. Scarlett and Sophie, I mean. Ugh, they think they're just too fucking cool. Like they're superior to the rest. I used to be like, they used to be my best friends. I was dating Charlie, like I was told to. Not because I particularly wanted to, but it would help with popularity, right? Wrong. Only if I had known that at the time. That in a years time I would be sat on my freezing cold arse, writing this. I add another Jesus bracelet onto my wrist, covering the scratch marks from last weeks session. I couldn't let anyone see it, not even a tiny slip of one of the scars. Not yet, not ever. I can hear them sniggering at me, seriously did they think I give a fuck? Well, I do. We all care about what other people think of us. Yet, we all tell ourselves that we don't care. That it doesn't matter. That we don't need to be accepted. That there is the slightest chance of happiness in this dark, unforgiving world.
I'm on the bus now, finally. Surprised I didn't catch pneumonia or some shit. Why is England so cold? I'm going to move to America, oh wait Australia. The boys from there are super hot. What lessons do I have today then? Double Maths, whoa so excited for that, not. Then English, hm that's alright. Art, thank the lord and History, that's ok. Not that bad of a day, I'm sure I'll survive. The thing is, I liked the holidays, I got to see who I wanted, when i wanted. Now, I have to see all the cunts and bitches at my school. Fab.
School was alright, I had Art at least. I drew a picture of a girl cutting into her wrist, no-one understood it. The thing is, that girl..she was /me./ No-one really cares though, I'd be surprises if anyone cared if I killed myself tonight. I wont though, I don't have the balls. The balls to end my life, I just don't think i would be able to. Something, right in the back of my head would stop me./ I wish I could, I really do. I want the misery to be over. Because once you realize there are more bad then good in the world, your done for. Once you've gone to depression land, there's no going back. Shame, really. I just want to be my old self, I miss that girl. The Becca everyone knew and actually liked, loved even. Now I'm the Becca that all the girls roll there eyes at, the girl that all the boys fuck with and never talk to again. Life sucks.