Life is garbage. I’m fifteen years old. Female, bisexual, cancer survivor, pilot, writer. I am selfish, hot headed, arrogant, depressed, loathsome, and unsure of myself. I have been called a slut, whore, b****, liar, faggot, dike, and many more. Life is garbage. At the time of righting this, I am chewing a hole through my lip and furiously flicking a fidget spinner. This is when I tell my story.
The story reaches a hot and heavy climax a month and a half previous to my time of writing this. I came out to my parents. I told my mother at therapy. She cried. She couldn’t understand how I could do something like this to her (I know, ironic right. I still couldn’t understand how she could do something like forcing me to exist by getting unintentionally pregnant with me). She was almost accepting the first day… the adrenaline hadn’t subsided yet. The second day she told me I was going to hell. That was the day my Dad told me I had made a terrible mistake by trying to impress other people through being gay. The third day, she begged my forgiveness and gave up on me.
Two weeks later, I lost the love of the love of my life. I know, it sounds quite a bit unrealistic at the ripe old age of fifteen. But, I was already there. My whole head and heart were invested in this carrot topped blue eyed fawn. I still blame myself for what happened to us. He was the purest creature I had ever discovered and I had destroyed him without realizing it. He left me after nine months. It was what I had deserved all along of course, but it still hurt like a b****. I was intent on ending my life, but like the previous six attempts, it failed. Bummer.
The next day, my parents decided to tell me they were probably most likely possibly separating. A real shocker right there folks. Honestly, I was still in shock about getting a huge face full of karma the day before, so I couldn’t really care less. This state of indifference tended to carry over to most aspects of my life forever.
The day after that, I got rejected by my long time crush. She was perfect. She was a goddess in my eyes, my wildest dream come true. She was also seeing someone else, and didn’t really like girls all that much.
At this point of my life in the present day, I still dream about my beautiful freckled pasty skinned boy. Literally dream. Everything seems so much simpler in dreams, like making up, and making out, and coming out. In real life, I’m just as lonely as I’ve ever been.At the end of the day, I still play the same games and tell the same jokes. I’m just a lot more disgusted with the world than I was two months ago.