I would be lying to everyone I knew if I were to admit that I was happy with how my life was at the moment. No, I am not being an over dramatic teenage girl who has nothing else to whine about in life. I have every reason to be angry, upset, or as my therapist calls it "Inaffective Coping". It would be hard for you to get though since you have no clue about me or my life, but I'll be nice enough to give you a little inside view. My name is Adelaide Lyla Cuddy, but please call me Addy. I'm 16 years old and a senior in high school. Yes I skipped a grade, 2nd to be exact, and am glad I did so because I would have been even more bored in class than I am now if I was stuck with those idiotic kids that are supposedly my age. To be honest, I think most of them are idiots. Sure they may get good grades in class, but can they actually think critically, use judgment? Nope! Anyway, I was attending this private school in Princeton, New Jersey, called the Princeton Day School. Supposedly it is supposed to cater to students from K to 12 and sculpt their students into the greatest thinkers of the 21st century. They would be lucky to get 3 since most are their students are incompetent and would probably have a hard time getting a job at McDonald's let along become President of the USA, but hey, Dad's money does help.

I, unlike most of the girls at that school, don't have a dad, well I do but I don't go by his last name, and didn't really know who he was until I was 13. My mom met him when she was in college. Yes, young Lisa Cuddy, a little pre med major ready to take on the world got distracted by an older boy who worked in the book shop. She had a crush on him, or at least that's what grandma says, and she even audited a class just to be in the same room as him. Nothing really happened between them though and they kept going in separate ways only to run into each other a few years later, with a few one night stands here and there, and I was the result of on of them. My mother had me at 28, during her first year as a real doctor. She had no time for babies though, and I was sent to live with my grandmother for the first year of life. Even when my mother did get the position of vice president of Princeton-Plansboro Teaching Hospital, she still had little time with me and I was left with nannies and saw her maybe 2 hours a day. We aren't really close because of it. I tried as a child to like her, but she always was too busy, and when I was older, I realized that even if I did have her hair and her face, her posture and her body language, I still was too much like my father. Her blue eyes contrasted against my own icy grey and the fact that every other sentence that came out of my mouth was sarcastic did not go to well with her either. My teacher's also didn't appreciate my constant mind games, the fact that I questioned everything they said I thought was wrong, or the fact that I would complete my school work to fast and spend most of the day reading my own books. I can't help the fact that I'm faster and smarter than my classmates. I was born this way, or at least that is what I would say to them, with a smirk on my face.

I'm at a new school now though, 1000 miles away from New Jersey in Sarasota, Florida. I mean, sure it is nice to be in a place that is always sunny and warm, but I feel like the kids here are even dumber than the ones in New Jersey. I'm going to this place called the Out of Door Academy (dumb name I know), and maybe it's because I don't know anyone but I'm even more bored than I was before. Luck for me though I will be going to college next year. I only applied to one school, John Hopkins for pre medicine, and got in early decision. Now all I have to do is count now the days until I am free to leave this horrible city and my less than caring mother and her replacement child. I mean, reason we had to move is beyond stupid and I can blame my dear old mother for it too.

So, back to my dad. His name is Greg House and he has worked for my mother for years! He's a genius and has his own department that takes one case at a time, and tries to find out what the hell is wrong with them. When I met him, I was just a baby, and I grew up calling him Uncle Greg just to annoy him. He was the one who taught me the use of sarcasm. He is very bitter for multiple reasons. One, he is in constant pain because of his leg. He had an arterial thrombus many years ago that caused an infraction and necrosis of the muscles in his thigh, particularly the rectus femoris and the vastus lateralis and medialis, but that all really isn't important. He refused to have his leg amputated and instead asked to be put into a medically induced coma. His girlfriend at the time though went against his wishes and tried to have it operated on. Now, my dad has chronic pain and cannot make it through the day without vicodin Q3h (that's fancy medical writing for every 3 hours). When I found out Greg was my father (I saw my heavily guarded birth certificate when my mother was cleaning out her office), I really became close with him and started avoiding my mother for not telling me the truth. It was hard for him to love me, I'm not sure he can love anyone, but I didn't care He was the only person who understood how I felt, how I thought. We could have conversations that only we could understand. Eventually things worked out and my parent's began to date again; my father even quit relying on Vicodin. Once he started his habit again, my mother pulled my away from him, and she ended things between them. Let's just say he didn't take that too well, and by that I mean he drove a car into our house. The next week we were driving to Florida to get a new start, but really, in my mom's world that is, meant she never wanted to be in the same state as that man ever again.

I'm angry at her for not even letting me say good bye, for forbidding any contact. I've sent him a few letters, but all have gone unanswered. Obviously he is still bitter, or he really never cared about me, but I always knew he probably didn't. I know the way I'm thinking is stupid, that I should want to see a man that wants nothing to do with me, but I want to, and living with my mother has become beyond unbearable. At least in Princeton, when she was nagging me about something, I could always rant to him about it, and my dad would give me some way to get back at her if not get back at her himself for that and something else. I feel like that is how my dad showed his love, by messing with my mom. Humans naturally form attachments to people in order to survive, even if they don't realize it. My mom and I mom have never had attachment. She messed that first stage of Erikson's developmental crisis' by not giving me her trust, therefore I have spent my entire childhood and beyond mistrusting her. I doubt she would care if I left and never came back, and that is what I will do. I have saved every dollar I've made at the Firehouse Sub shop in this little fund I like to call my getaway fund, and since I only have my learners permit, I have had no need to waste it on gas for a car. My plan is beyond simple, so simple that I know it will work. Tomorrow, my mother will be working all day, and by all day I literally mean all day, from 6 am to 10 pm. I will leave my normal time for school, but I will not be going. I have my bags packed, my 144 dollar plane ticket paid for and printed, and all the money I will need for a one night hotel stay, train fare, food and taxi. I will live with my father if it is the last thing I do. I never thought I would say I missed New Jersey, but I don because the only person who will ever understand me, the man with the same grey eyes that stare into your inner soul and reveal every single lie you have ever told. The Genius, Greg House.