I'ts just my style, chapter 1
Once upon a time in the land of perfect.. Ehh, scratch that! Nothing's ever perfect, well, in my eyes it isn't.
Wishes don't come true, nor do dreams. When you set your mind to something and practice it doesn't pay off. When you have little friends, an abusive parent, trouble in school life is never fair. It's music that keeps some of us alive.
There was a time when I had nothing, but suicide thoughts and I dreamt of screaming. I have trouble sleeping as it is and remembering dreams, but these really stood out. I dreamt that I was in a room, a white room, with no doors or windows, sitting on the floor with no one or nothing around, crying out for help. No one came. So I would cry out again, still no one. Then, I would start to run in this room until I found a gun. I would pick up this gun hold it to my head, and cry out once more for help. When still no one came I slowly pulled the trigger to the gun and everything went black.
I would wake up without anymore dreams after this one (which I had just about every night for some time) and be in a cold sweat. It was just pouring off of me onto my bed. I never could explain why I kept having these dreams. They just happened, uncontrollably. I know I haven't had the most perfect life so far in my lifetime, but I wouldn't know why I would only remember those dreams. I don't want to brag about these problems, but there may be some people wondering about those problems. Some people actually like to help and comfort people. I could really care less though. I mean, it's not going to help at all! So why should I waste their time when they could be doing something productive with their lives. Why would they want to waste their time on me? I may never know, but I know there's at least one person that does care about me and tries to help me through any problem I have.
Like many people I've had a tough childhood. Nothing makes mine different from say yours. I just handle it in a different way I guess. Like I said I hate to brag about the past and what I've went through, but some people want to know. I hate making myself seem like a victim.
I've been abused for the past 11 years of my life by my jack hole. I refuse to call him my father because I don't look like him at all. He has abused me since I was 4 and with me now being 15 that would make 11 years, I think. He calls it correcting me, but I say otherwise. When it leaves fricken bruises and scars that's abusing. When I'm disobedient is when he mostly does it, but sometimes for no apparent reason. It doesn't phase me, much. I really don't mind it so much anymore because I'm used to it. My sister also beats up on me sometimes when she doesn't get her way. I guess you can call that abusing to since she's 19.
I have some trouble in school. I'm really good at math though. I'm ahead of a lot of my friends, but only like one class. I can't concentrate on school at all. That's the main reason why I don't do that well the other being I don't do my homework. I try to keep up as much as I can, but sometimes it doesn't work. I haven't failed a class yet and that's a good thing. The lowest I have ever got was a D-. It may look like I'm on top of everything, but really I'm not.
I don't really have that many friends anymore. I don't know what happened to that; I used to have a lot. Now I just have my main group of friends, they rock and I love them to death. I haven't done anything to any of the others, if I offended them in any way I'm extremely and sincerely sorry to them. I just want everything and everyone to live in peace without any problems, but there are some messed up people in this world and that will never happen.
That's just some background on what this story is about the whole story is told from my point of view. My name is Darla and this is a story for any teen who has ever felt the same way I do, and feels the same way I do. Please don't leave any nasty comments or any rude remarks to me because I really try my best. I don't care if you make fun of me in anyway, I can't help it. I'm just the way I am!
Wishes don't come true, nor do dreams. When you set your mind to something and practice it doesn't pay off. When you have little friends, an abusive parent, trouble in school life is never fair. It's music that keeps some of us alive.
There was a time when I had nothing, but suicide thoughts and I dreamt of screaming. I have trouble sleeping as it is and remembering dreams, but these really stood out. I dreamt that I was in a room, a white room, with no doors or windows, sitting on the floor with no one or nothing around, crying out for help. No one came. So I would cry out again, still no one. Then, I would start to run in this room until I found a gun. I would pick up this gun hold it to my head, and cry out once more for help. When still no one came I slowly pulled the trigger to the gun and everything went black.
I would wake up without anymore dreams after this one (which I had just about every night for some time) and be in a cold sweat. It was just pouring off of me onto my bed. I never could explain why I kept having these dreams. They just happened, uncontrollably. I know I haven't had the most perfect life so far in my lifetime, but I wouldn't know why I would only remember those dreams. I don't want to brag about these problems, but there may be some people wondering about those problems. Some people actually like to help and comfort people. I could really care less though. I mean, it's not going to help at all! So why should I waste their time when they could be doing something productive with their lives. Why would they want to waste their time on me? I may never know, but I know there's at least one person that does care about me and tries to help me through any problem I have.
Like many people I've had a tough childhood. Nothing makes mine different from say yours. I just handle it in a different way I guess. Like I said I hate to brag about the past and what I've went through, but some people want to know. I hate making myself seem like a victim.
I've been abused for the past 11 years of my life by my jack hole. I refuse to call him my father because I don't look like him at all. He has abused me since I was 4 and with me now being 15 that would make 11 years, I think. He calls it correcting me, but I say otherwise. When it leaves fricken bruises and scars that's abusing. When I'm disobedient is when he mostly does it, but sometimes for no apparent reason. It doesn't phase me, much. I really don't mind it so much anymore because I'm used to it. My sister also beats up on me sometimes when she doesn't get her way. I guess you can call that abusing to since she's 19.
I have some trouble in school. I'm really good at math though. I'm ahead of a lot of my friends, but only like one class. I can't concentrate on school at all. That's the main reason why I don't do that well the other being I don't do my homework. I try to keep up as much as I can, but sometimes it doesn't work. I haven't failed a class yet and that's a good thing. The lowest I have ever got was a D-. It may look like I'm on top of everything, but really I'm not.
I don't really have that many friends anymore. I don't know what happened to that; I used to have a lot. Now I just have my main group of friends, they rock and I love them to death. I haven't done anything to any of the others, if I offended them in any way I'm extremely and sincerely sorry to them. I just want everything and everyone to live in peace without any problems, but there are some messed up people in this world and that will never happen.
That's just some background on what this story is about the whole story is told from my point of view. My name is Darla and this is a story for any teen who has ever felt the same way I do, and feels the same way I do. Please don't leave any nasty comments or any rude remarks to me because I really try my best. I don't care if you make fun of me in anyway, I can't help it. I'm just the way I am!
