That awkward moment when you're the new kid in the school.
People look at you like you have a second head. Especially in the middle of the semester. You feel like an animal at a zoo. There's nothing you as a person can do but stand on the other side if the glass as people laugh and take pictures.
I know exactly what that feels like. I also know what feels like to move from a bustling city into the middle of hicksville nowhere.
I myself am a city girl, the bright lights, the ways it's always so alive, how there so many places you can go, it just, that's my cup of tea, you know? Not all this nature-y you need to drive three miles to go to the nearest store jungle-y stuff.
The only jungle I enjoy is the concrete jungle.
Not plants, or sights, little one story houses that are just 'So cute!', or anything else really. The only thing I'm really looking forward to is seeing the starts. I've never seen stars before. All the lights in New York City block them out. So this'll be the first time I see stars. I'm 16. I'm really excited for that. Excited to look up and see thousands of twinkling lights shining down on me.
Mom thinks being out her will inspire her writing more.
Mom's a best selling author, and apparently is out of idea's, which her publisher doesn't like.
I can't blame her for needing more idea's, more inspiration. Seeing the same thing written over and over and over again can be boring. The cliche ending where the guy ends up with the girl, or your boyfriend is a vampire, or that gore and death stuff.
Mom like's to be original. She doesn't want to be 'Remembered for writing the same boring thing everyone else is.'
I can't blame her.
Who wants to be remembered for being a copycat?
No one that's who.
The only thing that bugs me, is that she didn't ask me or my sister about this move. She decide by herself, and that bugs me a lot, actually. We're suppose to make decisions as a family! Literally three days before we were leaving, at dinner she said, 'Girls, I'm moving you across the country so I can make more money, you have no say, and we leave in three days.' Like, Mom, you could of at least ASKED us!
But no, she forced us to pack up our things, leave our friends, our school, our home, for this place. This place isn't home. This place is a little town in the middle of Washington where everything is literally dead. No bustling people, no bright light. Just some people, three schools, a diner, and a gas station. It's literally a one stop light town. There is ONE light. There was at least three on the street we lived on in New York.
I almost hate her for it. But really, I can't. I want her to do what she loves, I want her to be happy.
But what about my happy? Does she care about my happy?
I just don't feel like this is home. This place in foreign. It isn't what I want, it isn't what I need. I need life, I need adventure.
And this is not the adventure I need either.
I don't need the, oh, look, there's some woods, go hang out there until it gets dark. Or, oh look, an ocean, go swim.
No, I need the rush of riding my bike through Time Square, dodging through the cars. Or jumping off the George Washington Bridge, into the Hudson River. I need that rush. I won't get that rush here.
I guess that's why I drink. I need the rush that it gives.
The rush of stealing it out of the store, the rush of knowing my Mom could catch me with it. Knowing while I'm walking down the street drinking it out of the bottle, a police officer could stop me, and arrest me.
I think that's why I smoke too. To spite the world, to show it I'm an individual.
Some people with the could go up to society and give it a big 'Fuck you in the ass' squeeze lemons in it's eyes and run away. Tell society that 'It's my life I'll do what I want, I'll love who I want, I'll be who I want, and there's nothing you can do about it', but they can't. They're afraid people won't accept them for who they are. That they'll shun them for being not walking and talking like this perfect little robot.
That's why I drink, that's why I smoke, that's why I speak my mind. I want to be an inspiration. I want to show the world that, 'Hey, you can do what you love and be proud'.
I want it to not matter.
I want to help people.
But I can't do that here.
I can't do anything here.
That's why I kind of hate my mother for moving us here. I don't want to be here. I want to be out there, making a difference.
Plus the no warning thing was a huge no to the whole idea.
I guess I'll have to live with though.
Have to live with the fact I had to break up with my boyfriend because he 'Couldn't handle long distance if he tried'. Or that I had to leave my best friend. Or that my sister lost so many people.
I have to live with it, that's what I keep telling myself. Over and over again.
I don't think it's helping, like at all.
My name's Roxy Lalonde and I'm ready to get the fuck out of here already.
It's like 12:06 and I just shit out 1,024 words like holy shit. Is this as bad as I think 'cause it seems really bad. Okie guys, here ya go. Don't forget to follow, favorite and all that jazz. Love ya nerds! Later!
~Anna