Chapter One: My Lonely Life~


  I sighed, getting out of my bed slowly. I looked at my clock and it read 10:14 AM. I hadn’t left my room for days now and decided that it was time for me to pull myself together, again. How many times have I suffered from this type of hurt, from this terrible plague called heartache?

  There were too many to count.

  Just how idiotic and foolish was I? I just can’t seem to learn my lesson. I keep falling for the wrong guys and end up getting hurt all over again. I just wish that I’d wise up and fall for the right guy, the guy that’ll make me happy and not leave me with a broken heart when he finds a new girl he takes interest in. I wish that someone would sweep me off my feet and alleviate all my worries and ameliorate my pain, like they do in those wonderfully fantasized storybook fairytales. I just want someone to allay my sadness and loneliness and mitigate all my worries. Is that really so much to ask for?

  No matter my desires, alas for me, it’s just wishful thinking. It’s inevitable that I’ll end up doomed to live a life full of loneliness and the chocolate I’ll eat to assuage my troubles. The chocolate part I could deal with, but it’s the loneliness part I’m frightened of.

  I’ve never dealt with being alone too well. I really hate it. I just can’t stand the suffocating silence drilling my eardrums constantly...

  See, my parents were rarely ever home, even now they’re mostly out, so I was by myself most of the time during my childhood. Ever since I was young all I could remember was the feeling of being on my own and abandoned, never really being able to see my parents, like my friends, though I loved them so much... I always wondered if I did something bad or wrong or if I wasn’t good enough in their eyes. I kept trying my best for them whether it was in school or in doing my chores, which I volunteered to do, or just anything that would make them take notice of me. I would’ve done anything to hear them praise me for once and act like they cared about me. I would have done anything to have them tell me that they loved me. But…I guess it’s just wishful thinking. I shouldn’t expect so much.

  But I soon became aware that it was all in vain and that nothing I did would change how they felt about me, or should I say how they didn’t feel for me.

  Everything I did to appease them and make them love me was never going to be acknowledged by the parents who ignored me all my life. It really hurt me when I grasped this about two years ago when I was fourteen and in my freshman year. This new realization inspired me to seek what I was deprived of from others. And when I say others, I mean guys in my high school.

  No matter who I dated, they never seemed to show any interest in who it was or what type of guy he was. They didn’t appear to care who was with their daughter at a late hour of the night or what could happen to me what with me being out so late. They didn’t seem to care what I did with my time or even if I went to school. They just didn’t pay any attention to me. They gave me money, probably thinking that it’d excuse their disregarding me, but of course, it didn’t. Sometimes I didn’t even feel like accepting their money but then I thought I should because I saw it as a token of their concern for me, even if just a little bit.

  I didn’t have a curfew, of course. Actually, I didn’t have to follow any rules, basically. But I had my own that I made up. I asked my friends what they were allowed to do and what they weren’t allowed to do. I made my list of self-rules based on that. I decided I needed some type of guidance in my life or I felt I’d be screwed.

  I vowed to never drink any alcohol, not that I like it anyway, until I became of age and to not do anything that would get me into trouble at school or anywhere. I always made sure I didn’t get any grade less than a B in all my classes and that I wouldn’t do something stupid like get pregnant while I’m in high school. Sometimes I broke a rule though. Just to see if they really did care, at times I forced myself to do C work and brought that home as a final grade in one of my classes. When I showed it to them, they didn’t even care. So I tried getting a D. Still, there was no reaction whatsoever from my supposed parents. I just couldn’t live with myself if I got an F, so I just gave up trying with that tactic like many others that I’ve tried over the years.

  Because of the lack of parental guidance and love, I had to make mistakes that I could’ve avoided and do everything pretty much on my own. I guess the bright side to this is that I can handle living on my own when I get older, considering that I’ve basically been doing that for most of my sixteen years of life now, and move out. And learning from the mistakes I do make isn’t all that bad either.

  But despite my indirect methods, I’ve tried talking to them about this to hopefully solve this problem I’m dealing with, but to no avail. Every time I did try to bring up the conversation of as to why they didn’t care about me, they’d always get angry and I’d have to placate them by saying that it didn’t really matter, though it did greatly, and leaving the dining room, mediating the to-be argument. I only ever did that twice. Once when I was six and once when I was eleven. I was so scared after both times. I didn’t like making them angry because to me, that meant they loved me even less, that is, if there was any love for me to begin with. I had to quell the emptiness and the ache in my chest by humming a lullaby that I remember from such a long time ago. It’s the only thing that seems to mollify my emotions. It really soothes me and makes me want to sleep.

  But maybe that’s why I am the way I am now… Because my parents neglected me when I needed them the most, I crave the love and kindness that I was deprived of before, now from the guys I date. I guess I’m just looking for someone to love me and take care of me and scold me when I do something wrong and treat me like a little kid once in a while. At least I’d know that they’re doing it out of love. I don’t think it’s too much to ask of a guy or of my parents. But again, it’s just wishful thinking.

  Sighing, I walked to my closet and grabbed my favorite pair of faded blue jeans and a white button-up long-sleeved blouse and changed into them. I decided to go to the mall today since it was a Saturday and I had no school. Having your heart broken for the fourth time in two years really creates an urge for a shopping day. I had a lot of cash on me since I haven’t used it in so long, allowing it to accumulate, so I was prepared to go all out today.

  Now all I had to do was get a few friends to come with me and i knew just the two who were going to get their butts to the mall and go shopping with me, whether they wanted to or not.