I am selfish.

I am vane.

I am heartless and most likely will go to hell.


This was the hardest part. Trying to control an anger in you that you always are suppressing. An aanger unlike anything other, an anger interwined with sadness, with frustration, with despait, with absolute, utter self hatred.

I used to be a happy kid. I was just content with life, my life, and I felt like nothing bad could ever happen. After all, ignorance is bliss.

Then I grew up. I started to notice the bad things in the world. I learned to live in fear. I grew up too fast. I knew that my life could end at any moment at the gentle age of nine. After that, everything else came flooding in.

That's when I started to hate myself. Everythime I glanced inside the mirror, a wave of sickness washed over me. All I saw was the excess fat, the unusual paleness of my skin, my chipmunk cheeks.

Everytime I went to school, it felt like torture. School was full of beautiful people. Girls with glamourous clothes, long, thick, flowing hair, and personalities to match.

I couldn't help but compare myself.

These girls were size zeros or less. I felt as me, in my size ten clothes, was the elephant in the room. My flat, dull hair pulled into a plain ponytail. I felt truly ugly.

I fell into depression. At the young age of twleve, I was depressed.

People didn't understand. No one got how I could be depressed. They thought nothing was wrong in my life. I had parents who were not only together, but happy. I had a wonderful sister. I went to a private school were no harm was ever done. I was a Christian. The lists kept piling on.

I saw endless therapist, not one understanding what was in my brain. I'm not fully blaming them though. I didn't talk much. Well, actually I don't talk at all.

I quit speaking after an argument I had with my mom. She thought I was only doing this for attention. She didn't truly believe that I have real problems with myself.

She said there was nothing wrong with my life. She said I was a selfish bitch who craved attention. She called me an attention whore who couldn't be satisfied with my life.

Then I was done. I wanted to spite her. I wanted to show her that I'm not doing thid for attention, but now I will be.

Because that exactly is what being a mute does. In a way, no one really is paying attention to you. But then again, in another way, people are always looking at you. They can't keep their eyes off of you even though they know it's wrong.

Sort of like a bad car crash. Or a train wreck.

I, Clare Edwards, is a human train wreck.


So... what do you think? I know its short, its just the prologue to the story. Please review, 4 Reviews = Chapter 2. Also Never Let You Go should be updated within a couple days. Check it out if you have not already. :)

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