Contains:
-Smoking
-Strong language
(Stay safe guys <333)
Apparently, I'm supposed to write in here. I've been having trouble with life in general, so my therapist told me to journal. This shit is dumb. I'm not sure why I need this, I can handle my own problems. My parents live upstate in Canada, its sorta nice not having to see them, plus they pay for my apartment, but I just don't seem to understand why they pay for my therapy. Obviously, I'm fine on my own if I can live alone at 17 years old in a very popular city.
I live in Seattle, it's a fun city, but nobody here understands me, and I'm ok with that. I have friends; none that I'm really connected too. Yeah, I care about them, it's just not always exciting to see them.
I never like going to school, it irritates me. I don't feel like I learn anything anyways, as if I could focus in the first place. My life's a routine, or a broken record, everything repeats itself, over, and over, and over. I wake up from my alarm at 6:30, shower, smoke, go to school, work to pay for my car and food, come drive home, clean, sleep. Even then, I can't sleep well, so I'm constantly up, having nothing to do. I know I live in a pretty big city, but I never find myself doing anything interesting. friends invite me to parties, I go sometimes, but I don't exactly see the point in drinking and running from cops. I especially don't like the shitty feeling when I wake up in the morning. I get really hung over, I'm a light weight. I feel instant regret when I remember what I did the night before. I feel like a kid still; I don't feel like I've grown up yet.
Having responsibility is way different from being mature. I always had to take care of my younger brother since my parents were so distant; even before they split, yet I never felt grown up. No matter how many meals I cooked a day, how many dishes I cleaned, nor how many times I went grocery shopping. I've never felt any older than my age. In fact, even now, I feel like I'm still 15.
Usually on my way to school I get super anxious, but not today, something feels off, but I can't put my finger on it. I walk into class like it's a normal day, and it is. There's only thing that wasn't ordinary, the new student. he had a British accent, surprisingly, it wasn't annoying. He wore a black hoody and grey 90's styled pants, maybe he skates? He's quiet, maybe that's because he doesn't know any better, the kids here are assholes, I'd be afraid to speak if I were him as well.
It's kind of nice jotting my words down on a page, I can't tell if it's necessarily therapeutic thus far.
Tonight, all I did was homework. I try to stay on top of my grades, I don't need another thing keeping me up at night, not that that matters, I have trouble sleeping anyways. Every. single. night, I just lay, staring at the ceiling, bored outta my fuckin mind, in conclusion, I just don't ever sleep well.
For once, I had an idea that might be fun, or just not boring, I get my shoes on, a raincoat, and put a hat on backwards. The hat makes a crease in my curly blonde hair. I take the elevator down to my apartment building lobby, open the door outside, of course its windy and raining, its Seattle.
I walk, fearing I may slip in front of somebody, who cares, I'm not sure why I do. The rain is so silent, but also so loud. Nobody's on this street, which is surprising, normally everyone's up, even late on a school night. its 1:00 AM, yet no one is on any street that I can see.
I'm walking to the park, the wind looks as if it's going to rip the trees out of the ground, I can hear the whistle of the gust. Rain fiercely hits the ground, like not anyone existed.
I strive to be like the weather.
As I walk on the sidewalk, I enter the park and see someone smoking.
The potent smell fills the air, its euphoric, nostalgic.
A boy sitting on a bench under a bunch of shaded trees is smoking. I thought to myself, 'I don't care,' but something about him caught my eye, he interested me. I can't see him well through the rain, but he's sitting back, leaning his head against the bench, looking up. He is loosely sitting, his legs rested. I'm not sure why I'm filtering myself, only I'm going to read this; He's man spreading, he seems cocky, but I don't know the kid. He was evidently soaking wet. As I walk closer, I see rain droplets along his neck and jawline, it makes his skin look clearest, he's pretty.
He hears me walking and sits up to look at me, I recognize him.
"Hello," he says, I instantly hear it, his accent, ah it's the new kid at school.
"What's up?" Why would I reply? I'd never usually do that. Normally I'd walk past someone and not even look at them, granted they talk to me, I would still ignore them.
"Want to smoke?"
"Um sure," I don't ordinarily smoke, only with friends, but I was used to it.
