My Life: One
A couple days later I had to get up for school. I didn’t feel like getting up and facing the judgmental world. Finally, after hearing my mother sweet-talk my sister into waking up, and then hearing her pound on my bedroom door and shout at me, I forced myself to get out of bed and turn on the light. I sat, dazed, on my bed, my eyes adjusting to the much-hated light. I go to my closet and pull out my navy-blue skinny jeans, black shirt, and black shoes. I got dressed and looked in the mirror. Muahaha, the black blob has returned, my mind laughs. I go to the bathroom next door and pull out my old blue hairbrush.
After untangling the small knots from my short, dark red hair, I pull it back into a tiny ponytail and pin my bangs back with a rainbow hair clip. Then it’s on to the makeup: black eyeliner, and cream and brown colored eye shadow. I walk out, ready to go to school: my only escape from my family.
I pass my sister on the way to the kitchen. She looks at me with her ugly blue eyes and that pouty look on her face. “Don’t look at me,” she says in her whiny baby voice. I roll my eyes and stroll right on by, ignoring her. In my eyes, she was stupid, and I could care less about her. “Mommy! Adriana’s being mean to me!” I hear her wail as soon as I’m quite a distance away from her. And then comes my mother out of her bedroom, wearing a frowny face.
“What did you do now, A?” she asks, hands on her hips. My jaw drops. “I didn’t do anything!” I say instantly. “Mhm. Don’t try to act innocent,” she says, walking over to my sister and telling her to ignore me. I just glare and turn away. ‘Just ignore her’ is a commonly used phrase around the house. Everyone thought of me as the “gothic-emo freak who doesn’t know who she is.”
I knew who I was. It was those who despised me who didn’t know who they were.
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