At Least You Can Choose Your Friends

“I want you to just close your eyes and imagine.” I told him. “ As if you’re really there, remembering what I remember.” He looked blank, but did what I asked. So I began…1

“On a distant hill under a starlit sky stood a cottage. A faint light glowed from a window, my window, I’d left the light on. I just can’t stand being alone in the dark, stupid I know. It was a cold damp night and all was calm and quiet except for the occasional breeze and the intermittent call of an owl. The door crashed open and out I burst, tears rolling down each cheek. I’d seen a few people I’d recognised walking through the forest not long before I came out, but they couldn’t tell it was me. It was far too dark to see anything, I’d be just a shadowy figure. That’s what I hoped anyway. Inside I’d left my mug of coffee on the table. It was going cold, but I could still see it steaming. It was the least of my problems at this point anyway. I’d left my phone on the bare table too. An unfinished text message left on the screen. I couldn’t bear to carry it on. I just threw it down. It was basically saying how I felt, my thoughts and feelings at the time. I had no intentions of sending it, although I wish I had. I wish I could remember what it said. I’m still kinda curious to this day. 2

My parents had gone out, they weren’t due back for a while yet so I was all alone. I do like quiet time occasionally, although it can get lonely. Too much time alone isn’t good for anybody and I think I’d know more than others. I was quite often left alone. My parents were usually at work or just too busy for me. Although it did give me chance to think, to clear my head. It gave me the chance to let everything go, to write little poems or stories to pass the time. It made a better writer out of me anyway. One advantage I suppose. I even taught myself to cook. I had to. I wouldn’t have eaten otherwise, just wasted away. 3

When I got to school it wasn’t much better either. I mean I was hardly the most popular kid, with teachers or students. I wasn’t really sociable, that’s probably where I went wrong. I was forced into the background. I’m just wallpaper. That’s how it felt. It still does. They say kids can be so cruel, so can adults. 4

I never talked to my parents, like families are supposed to. They never knew what I was really thinking and feeling. They didn’t seem to care, although they liked to think they did. They liked to think they knew me inside out. “She’s our daughter,” they’d say, “of course we know her.” They knew nothing. I’d say my bedroom wall knew me better than they did. I’d talk to it more often. Nobody else would listen. I don’t blame them. All I ever do is moan anyway. Nobody wants to listen to somebody complaining all the time, or showing any type of bad emotion. They get scared. Run off. Tell you they have to be somewhere. So you’re left alone to try and figure things out for yourself. To try and think of good points to the situation with no help or support. It’s not easy fighting your own mind. It’s like a never-ending argument between two different sides of you. A split personality kind of thing. The problem was, the bad side always seemed to win me over. Like bad things always seem to. I’d often wondered why I remembered the bad things in my childhood and never the good. I can’t remember a single good thing that’s happened to me, but somehow I can remember a bad dream from when I was about five. I’d wonder what was so attractive about bad things but not good, and then I’d come to the conclusion that bad things are more emotional. They tend to stick to your mind mainly because they hurt. Good things can just fade away, you don’t need the memory anymore because it’s finished making you smile, done all it needs to do. It seemed to make sense and there weren’t many other explanations. Not that I could think of anyway. I’m not clever but I’d like to think I know myself, my own mind, better than anybody else could. It quite interests me actually, how my mind works. It’s such an amazing thing. A tool to use to my advantage. So strong and powerful. It’s amazing just to think it controls everything we say and do. Every mistake we make. Every thought that crosses our minds. Every dream that seems so real until we open our eyes the next morning and think, “wow, I could have sworn I was actually there” and seem to remember it for so many years to come, as if it were memory.  Our minds have created it. Our minds create who we are, our personality, our sense of humour. All the little details that create that one individual person that nobody else could possibly be, the feelings nobody else could possibly begin to feel in exactly the same way that you do. It’s amazing. I still can’t get over the fact that I exist. As stupid as that sounds. It truly amazes me to think about these kinds of things.5

It was getting late when my parents finally came bursting through the door. Drunk, as per usual. The last time I remember them coming home sober was a few years back, and it’s not like they even cared I existed then. There’s always two outcomes when they’re home, sober and don’t care or drunk and don’t care. Take your choice. I’d rather they stayed at wherever the hell they crawled out from. Probably some stupid pub down the road with all their “mates”. I’d rather not bother with “mates”. Waste of time. I feel I don’t need people anymore. I’m better off without them I think. I mean what’s the point in making friends just for them to stab you in the back? I wish I was just alone and nobody bothered. We all just kept ourselves to ourselves and kept out of each other’s business, instead of everyone having to get involved and poking their noses in where it’s not needed. People just don’t know when to leave it alone. They have to keep pushing you and pushing you until eventually you crack and it gets half way round the school. That’s what you get for trusting people. And they wonder why people hate them…6

I often like to go for walks at night. You know, in the dark. I love to go outside with nobody around and pretend I’m the only person left in the world. It’d make it a much more enjoyable place to live in. Nobody bothering me or telling me what I should and shouldn’t do “for my own good”. You’d think I’d know what was for my own good now wouldn’t you? I’m sensible for my age. I mean I’m 15 years old for god’s sake. I can look after myself enough when they leave me at home, but when it’s time to do something I want to do I’m suddenly not old or responsible enough. It’s not like I have a choice in whether I look after myself or not when I’m home alone, it’s forced upon me.7

I suppose there’s one great thing about them being away from home all the time. I feel like it’s my house and I can do what I want, when I want. I can relax, curl up on the sofa and enjoy a good book while I finally have some peace and quiet from the world, because lets face it, when they’re home it’s either them arguing or the TV’s on at the highest volume with some stupid football match on, and I just despise that game. Yes, I think I’d much prefer to sit and read or write or draw alone any day. I don’t need them. I don’t need anybody. 8

It was hard getting to sleep that night. I could hear their drunken shouting so clearly it was like I was thinking and saying it myself. They were arguing again, over god knows what this time. They can’t seem to see that it won’t get them anywhere. I don’t know why they’re still together. They obviously don’t love each other. They didn’t when I came along. I was an accident. I know, they told me. It all seemed to make sense anyway. What kind of responsible adult would bring a child into an unloved family? Unless of course they were just selfish, which there’s a high possibility of that too. I blame them for my existence and I’ll hate them until the day I die for it. They brought me into this awful place out of their lack of common sense. It’s just unfair. Why should I be put through this torture for their mistake? It’s as if they don’t have a kid anyway, they don’t have to suffer for what they did, I do. Almost every night they would be out getting drunk having a whale of a time, while I’d be stuck at home. In their eyes I don’t seem to exist. I think it would be a relief to all of us if I didn’t. It wouldn’t make much of a difference to their lifestyle, but at least my suffering would end. I’d be peaceful. Away from the world and the people I hate.9

I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to leave home. Most people my age were too scared that they’d miss their families and the comfort of the home they grew up in. I knew I wouldn’t. If anything I’d be glad to leave it behind. Glad to leave my childhood behind and move on. Maybe raise a family of my own without everyone interfering and butting into my business. Finally be my own person. For once in my life. I’d be a better parent. I know I would. It would crush me to think I’d treated them in the same way as I was treated as a girl. I’d want a better life for them. I’d show my parents up. I’d love my child, and let it know it always know it was loved. Like a mother is supposed to. I’d be there for it when it was hurt or upset about something. Instead of leaving it crying. Like I was. We’d have that special bond that I never had with my mother. I’d stay home with it all night and never walk in drunk. I wouldn’t want to set a bad example. We’d have respect and love for each other which no other person or thing could possibly break. A nice happy family. Something I could love and cherish forever and nobody could take it away from me…nobody.”10