I’m only fifteen.
That’s something not many people seem to get. I may be amazingly strong, my writing might be talented, I may have travelled far and wide, and love-wise I’ve been busy as hell, but I’m still fifteen. I’m going into grade ten next year; I worry about how fat my legs are and want to tone them up; I find it nigh impossible to wake up without my first cup of double cream double sugar coffee with a shot of rum extract; I have an intense love affair with chocolate; I worship spicy foods and onion rings; and I love stuffed animals and cute things. I watch movies, laugh and cry. I’m only fifteen.
When I was younger, I had no one really there for me. There were token kindnesses, and the travels with my family, but beyond that I was lonely and bullied. I was hated and hurt, and there was no one there for me. There was no one there for me. I had a friend, who I looked out for and protected as best I could. I thought I’d be stuck there. I thought I’d be trapped into marrying him, because who would love kids like Lee and I? He was a selective mute, and I was a girl with a speech impediment. When puberty hit, it took me a while to get used to all the things that happened. *Sighs.* I was a little kid thrown into a world I didn’t really understand. And I couldn’t ask for help because I couldn’t even speak. I was just a kid and now, two years later after the final year of hell, I’m still just a kid.
I’m fifteen years old and I’m scared of messing up. I’m scared and alone and even though I’m never alone and will always be loved I can’t accept it. I can’t accept it. Let me tell you the reasons why….
A few years ago. Seat assignments had been given out. A kid runs up to a girl, one very nice who would smile at me sometimes and talk to me. The kid says, “Haha, you have to sit with Alex!” Disappointed cries. Mocking laughter. I’m standing a few feet away, alone and quiet, trying to hide from the world. I think to myself, Why do they hate me? They don’t even know me.
Grade five. Winter. My friends Heather and Lee and I were playing in the snow. A group of kids come up to us. One of them, Grant, throws snow in my face. Seems almost routine now. It happens almost every day. But today something changes—I throw snow back at him. The first resistance. And Heather and Lee back away, the only friends I’d ever really had, saying, “You’re in for it now.”
But of course things weren’t all bad….
Most of the time, I was invisible. Not many saw me and occasionally they spoke to me, with kindness and charity in their voices. And pity too. They hurt me, intentionally or not, and it’s been that way my entire life. I’m liked enough, but only because of the cool parties my family used to have and the fact that I’m a writer. Back when I was eleven, a lot of kids wanted to read the first novel I’d ever written—For Freedom Shall I Die. Sucked, but it won me some popularity.
Still, my childhood wasn’t simple.
And to go from a life of nothing but invisibility, token kindnesses and pitying smiles mixed with open hate, to a life online where I was loved and people knew me and wanted me to always be with them….i got hooked on it, and hooked on it fast. I found love, hope and dreams, and as my online world flourished my real one tarnished until it, too, began to grow. And now it’s grown. And now I’m not alone anymore. Now I have friends in real life, and they may not be much but for me….For me they’re the best I’ve ever had. They’re hope for a better future, for a life of laughter and of love, instead of webcams and cold rooms and overheated laptops. I can’t breathe anymore, because all of this is dreams. And dreams shatter when you wake, and fade away.
I have Ted and Fatum and Sun-Jung. And of my online life, very few remain. Only Ian holds a special place in my heart still. And he always will.
For the past two years I’ve been trying to find out what’s happening. I feel like my eyes have been opened, like I’ve woken up into a fresh new world of new rules and new laws, where there’s nothing real and it’s all a matter of perspective. I listen to music almost constantly, escape from the world, and power my thoughts into a single sword of brilliance and flame. An Angel’s fiery sword. Beautiful and terrible, righteous and cruel. And I cannot be cruel, and in my eyes I am far from beautiful. I’m only me, a fifteen year old girl still stuck in the simple thoughts of her youth, still fighting to break free of the old chains and wake up. I can’t wake up, not fully. I haven’t had enough coffee yet. *Grins a bit at the sad attempt at a joke.*
I’ve been getting better, though. I have countless regrets, yes, but I can make it through this life. I can and will make it through this life.
But only because I’m going to run like hell. I’m going to run and the only thing, the only one I’m taking with me from here will be Ted. I will run to a different city, to a different life—as far and as fast as I can go. Right after high school I’m going to get a job, start learning how to do copyright writing (brochures, manuals, and stuff like that for companies etc.) and get money. During that time I’m going to pile into a car and drive. Just drive. Get as far from home as I can, no destination in mind, and escape. Maybe head out west, to the old forests there, the really big ones. Maybe drive to visit my gang across Canada and the US. When I get back, it’ll only be long enough to pack up again and move twelve or more hours away to Bishop’s university. Ted will be here, in college. When I graduate, I’m outta here to run a bookstore, raise a family, write novels and poetry. I’m never coming home, because here was never home for me.
I’m going to make it out of here, and I’m going to be okay….
I’m going to be amazing one day.
Hell, I already am amazing.
I’ve written novels, have a pretty widely-red blog, have travelled the world, I’ve got a boyfriend who worships me and thinks everything I do is cute and hilarious, my friends are almost as weird as me and way cooler….
Not bad for a fifteen year old kid, eh?
