Separation Hurts, chapter 1

"Dawn? Could you come down here please?" my father called down the stairs. I sighed. I hated being called Dawn. It was so cheery, so nice, so happy. Well guess what? I wasn't cheery. I wasn't nice. I wasn't happy. I had one of the worst live's possible, but somehow everyone around me was just trying to pretend everything was all right, when it wasn't.

The whole world was messed up. Nobody cared about anybody else, only for their own sick minds and for money and power. So they could control others, and get everything they ever desired. So I shut myself away from all that crap. I didn't have friends, barely spoke to my family, and was heavily into music. So much so that I went 3 days without eating, drinking, or sleeping, just listening to and playing music.

And I cut myself. Yes, I openly admit it. I'm not afraid. I know, half the time I look down on myself for cutting, like some stupid emo. I wasn't emo! I wasn't anything! But then I was everything all at once. Physical pain I could always handle. I could always handle mental problems and verbal attacks. But I preferred physical. That, at least, was the most blunt way to do it. I could intentionally drive myself insane, and be cut off from everyone, from society, but that didn't solve one problem : How would I get everyone else to know that everything isn't all right? They would just think everything wasn't all right with me.

I sighed. "Don't call me that, dad!" I screamed, and opened the door slowly.

I walked down the stairs and sat heavily in the first chair I saw that wasn't occupied. I glared at the people in front of me. I had on a black long sleeve t-shirt, and tight jeans. I was wearing black socks, had my naturally black hair draped in front of my face. My eyes were surrounded by thick black eyeliner and my face was pale because I hadn't eaten at all that day. To tell you the truth, I wasn't that hungry anymore.

My private school principal Mr. Gavin, my social worker Ms. Jensen (whom my parents had insisted on once they saw my arms and my stomach and legs, all of which have deep gashes and scars on them), and my dad were sitting in front of me.

"What?" I said, still glaring at the three people in front of me.

"Well, your grades have been declining steadily, and you seem to be bullying the other students, so we have expelled you from school until further notice," Mr. Gavin said, with such speed and accuracy, it was like he had said it a thousand times before.

"That's no reason to suspend someone!" I screamed, but still not moving my body. It was like my voice didn't match my appearance, and Mr. Gavin was taken aback. I hadn't seen him much. Although my dad and Ms. Jensen were fully aware of my moody personality, and just took my little outburst in stride.

"Yes it is. This matter is not open for discussion. Case closed," Mr. Gavin said, walking with confidence out of my front door. I snarled at him on the inside. I turned to Ms. Jensen and my dad, who were sitting next to each other.

"Well?" I began, still not moving my body other than my head to face them again. "What other bad news are you going to give me now?"

"Well, we together, as a team," She liked using 'we' and 'team' as to include me, but I did not want to be included as some little 4 year-old. "Have decided it is best for you to move a little ways away and go to another school, to start anew," Ms. Jensen said, reaching out to touch my arm, but I quickly slinked back, so she had no reach of me across the kitchen table.

"Where?"

"To live with your Aunt Marge," my dad said, looking at me with a sad face. He always made an attempt to talk to me each day, but I just ignored him. I mean, sure he looked out for me, made sure I didn't do drugs, or was drinking, or killed myself, and that I was going to school, but other than that I didn't really notice him. Not like I would do drugs, or drink. I mean, that would just suck me back into the hole of society! Plenty of other people are alcoholics and are druggies, but that doesn't mean I am. And I wasn't trying to kill myself, but get my point across to other people that we live in a messed up world and need to change it around.... fast.

"In California? That's 2 states away!" I screamed, but still didn't move my body from it's new position. I mean, it was true. We lived in Colorado, so to get to California, you had to pass Utah and Nevada to get there!

"Yes, I know, but she's the only one that would take you. I would love to come with you, but my job prohibits me moving anywhere but within this city," my dad said, reassuringly -or at least trying to sound reassuringly. It made no difference to me. My Aunt Marge was one of the strictest people around. She probably wanted me so she could turn me around from my state, and make me 'normal'. She kind of reminds me of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, from Harry Potter, who wanted everything normal about themselves, and hated the fact that they had Harry and that he wasn't 'normal', but a wizard. But that's old stuff. I mean, I used to read that to my neighbor, when I was younger, before I really knew about the state of the world.

I didn't say anything, but looked to Ms. Jensen. "Is that it? Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"Well, yes, for right now but -" Ms. Jensen started, but I wouldn't let her finish.

"Good! Because I have better things to be doing with my time," I said, jumped off the chair and stormed upstairs.

I sat on my bed. California. The epitome of American culture. I hated California. It wasn't the prettiest place to be in the world, according to me, because everything was sunny days and soft beaches, wearing your bikini into shops to have mindless surfers looking at your chest. To me, that made absolutely no sense, and to me it was pointless. How can you act so carefree when the world around you is falling apart? How can you act so carefree, that when your children grow up, they might not have the chance to pursue their lives because we might all be extinct from the place we've put ourselves in! From what we've done to ourselves, and our planet. We've all killed ourselves, chosen our own horrible fate. And there seems to be nobody else who understands.

I rushed into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. They were pearly white, and straight, not just out of me obsessing over them - they were straight because of genes, and they were white because I brushed them every night, more out of habit than actual health.

I went back into my bedroom and got my pajamas on: black pajama pants and a simple red tank-top. I was also very slender, but not very tall for my age. I was 15, but only 5 feet and 3 inches tall. I'm glad I'm different than everyone else, it just makes me more noticeable so I can get my message across.

I looked down at my arms. Dozens of cuts and scars marred my arms, and if I stared long enough, I could see a crescent moon on my left forearm and the letters 'GD' on my right forearm. I don't know if I did that purposely or not, but it looked awesome.

See, the thing is, I was always fascinated by the night, the moon, and the stars. The darkness never frightened me, I liked it better than daytime mostly. It was that suspense, the unknown, that I wanted to figure out and tell the world about, just like our fates and our world. I would sometimes climb out my window and sit on the roof at night, staring up at the moon and the stars.

And I loved the band Green Day. I don't know if you've ever heard of them, but a few years back they got really political with their album 'American Idiot'. I loved that album - it is my all-time favorite to this day. I agreed with the songwriter's lyrics and views on the world and America, and I listened to it most often. But I didn't really care much for the band members as I did with the music. All I knew was that there were 3 band members - Billie Joe Armstrong (guitar, vocals), Mike Dirnt (bass) and Tre Cool (drums) and that Billie Joe wrote the songs. Other than that I didn't care.

I looked at my clock. 7:32. Way too early for bed. I hadn't noticed how early it was, although it was pitch black outside. I decided to climb out my window and sit on the roof, for the reasons explained before. One thing I don't like to do is repeat myself. You should have been listening the first time. To some, that seems as if I don't care if I get my point across. But to me, it means that if you ask me to repeat something, it's as if you could care less, and if you really cared, then you would have heard me the first time.

I cleared my thoughts as I stared up at the sky. I noticed that the moon was today a waning crescent, and I smiled. The same exact shape was on my arm. I looked down to the street, where absolutely nothing was going on. I did see a cat scurrying across the road under a streetlight. I laughed. It was my neighbor's ferocious cat, who hated everyone except her owner and the new tabby cat across the street, to where she was headed now.

I sighed, thinking back to my whole purpose in life, well at least what I thought was my purpose in life. I had to teach everyone that we can't go on living like this, wasting the precious things we have, thinking about the present but never the future. I mean, for Pete's sake, it's 2011, I was 15 this year, and we still haven't changed anything around. I mean, the world is at it's worst state. Ever. Nothing could compare to things now.

I sighed again, and crept back into my room. I decided, since I was so bored, and it was only 8 now, that I would listen to American Idiot. I popped open the CD case and took the CD out and placed it in my CD player, cranking up the volume. I didn't care if my dad thought it was too loud, I would just ignore him.

The opening guitar chords to the title track came on, and me, being my dorky self that nobody sees unless they set up an invisible camera in my room, started playing the air guitar and singing along. After the song finished, I laughed at myself, and just resorted to singing along to Jesus of Suburbia.

Before I knew it, the album was over, and it was 9 o'clock. I still wasn't tired, so I got out one of my famous scary books and started reading. After about 3 pages, there was a knock on me door.

"What?" I asked, annoyed. I was really getting into the storyline.

"I just wanted to come in, hon," my dad said. I sighed and my dad opened the door. He came over to me and sat down on my bed. "I wanted to tell you that I love you. I don't care if you hate me and never want to see me again, but I do love you. And everything I'm doing may seem like it's ruining your life, but trust me, you will love living in California," my dad sighed.

Yeah right. Don't you know that everything I'm against is in California?<'i>

I sighed and turned my attention back to my book. After about 20 seconds, my dad finally got the point and left, but not before saying one more "I love you," as he slipped out the door.

[i]FINALLY!!! I read the rest of the chapter and then hopped into bed, not really wanting the next day to come, but somehow hoping it to come so I can show those stupid Californians what's right.