Draft Lol: A Short Story
draft lol
I feel like a messed up 17 year old, just the same as I did the past 16 years of my life. I've never tried to be perfect; in fact I'd never even tried to "fit in" with everyone else. I try to be me (yes I know that's cliché) and not be a copy of society's straightened and perfectly fit members.
"Are you ready? We leave in 20 minutes", says Maurice, my stepmom. She's been with our family for 7 years, ever since my mom and dad had a divorce. When I was 13 my dad told me that financial complications was the reason why they split, but somehow I feel like it was me. I felt like I was the root of all the complications, although I have a sister named Dianne who's a year older, who is another person to put the blame on, but still, I think
I move too fast and speak too soon and everything I touch gets broken and it's just so chaotic.
I put my last shirt in my luggage bag and zip it all up, struggling to keep all the stuff in. I get it off my bed and align it with the 3 others and stand up, making up a list in my mind of the things that I had packed. As I think of all the things I plan to do there, I happen to see my full size mirror. I’m wearing a knitted gray sweater and white leggings. I never dress up too much. It irritates me; the fact that some people think they can judge you because of the clothes you’re wearing. I almost forget my journal, something that would keep me company through the long haul flight to Nashville.
After brushing my hair and putting on my perfume, I finally get out of my room and proceed down our stairs. On the way down I bump into my sister, who seems to never look where she's going. She pisses me off most of the time. Her utter stupidity both irritates and makes me weary, thinking about how on earth she would survive
I feel like a messed up 17 year old, just the same as I did the past 16 years of my life. I've never tried to be perfect; in fact I'd never even tried to "fit in" with everyone else. I try to be me (yes I know that's cliché) and not be a copy of society's straightened and perfectly fit members.
"Are you ready? We leave in 20 minutes", says Maurice, my stepmom. She's been with our family for 7 years, ever since my mom and dad had a divorce. When I was 13 my dad told me that financial complications was the reason why they split, but somehow I feel like it was me. I felt like I was the root of all the complications, although I have a sister named Dianne who's a year older, who is another person to put the blame on, but still, I think
I move too fast and speak too soon and everything I touch gets broken and it's just so chaotic.
I put my last shirt in my luggage bag and zip it all up, struggling to keep all the stuff in. I get it off my bed and align it with the 3 others and stand up, making up a list in my mind of the things that I had packed. As I think of all the things I plan to do there, I happen to see my full size mirror. I’m wearing a knitted gray sweater and white leggings. I never dress up too much. It irritates me; the fact that some people think they can judge you because of the clothes you’re wearing. I almost forget my journal, something that would keep me company through the long haul flight to Nashville.
After brushing my hair and putting on my perfume, I finally get out of my room and proceed down our stairs. On the way down I bump into my sister, who seems to never look where she's going. She pisses me off most of the time. Her utter stupidity both irritates and makes me weary, thinking about how on earth she would survive