Trust [a. irwin]

one

The school bell finally rings, signalling that school is over.

I walked to my locker on the last day I'll ever be in high school. Finally out of this place for the rest of my life.

Everybody was saying their goodbyes with their friends, but I have none, so I just grabbed everything out of my locker. I head through the halls which are covered in posters which read 'Congrats Class of 2014' or 'Goodbye Seniors'. I don't understand the point of those, nobody cares.

"Goodbye!" One of my teachers says as I walk by.

I give her a weak smile and make my way outside.

My dad was waiting there in his car, as per usual, to pick me up. Since a lot of times he won't let me drive myself.

"How was your last day of high school Em?" He asks.

"Fine." I simply reply.

He sighs before driving off, obviously not satisfied with my answer. 

Once we get home I go straight to my room, throwing my bag on the floor and closing the door shut.

I walk over to the mirror and check what I look like after today.

I comb my fingers through my now somewhat knotted hair. Looking at myself, I'm actually not completely hating what I see. I smooth out my shirt and remind myself to repaint my chipping nail polish. My thick black eyeliner hasn't been ruined either, thank god.

I look at the tattoo on the side of my ring finger on my right hand and give a small smile.

On my eighteenth birthday I got a tattoo of my mothers initials.

Yes, that's correct. My mothers initials.

You see, I'm Emma Matthews, eighteen years old, and obviously just finished high school. I was a straight A student in high school, but I only really liked art class. I would say enjoy listening to music and drawing, considering it's all I ever do. I do have depression but actually getting somewhat better, and anxiety which gets pretty bad and it sucks. As for my appearance I have dark brown hair, which us dyed, and I have brown eyes. I also have an eyebrow piercing and a tattoo.

I was born on March 15th, in the year 1996 in Los Angeles, where I still currently live.

That date is also the date written on my mothers tombstone.

Since she had died giving birth to me, it makes me believe I'm the reason she's dead.

I don't believe I'm the reason, I know I'm the reason.

I realized this when I was about eleven.

Realizing it was my fault, totally had a huge impact on my life. But I tried to continue living as if nothing was wrong, I was that stereotypical rich, blonde, LA girly girl. I would wear pink way too often and dresses and skirts plus the big brand names. I had a lot of close friends then. When I started acting weird because of what I had recently realized, my friends started pushing me away. I told one of my closest friends that I thought I was the reason of my moms death, she called me a freak then my friends dropped me, just like that. Yeah, throughout the years I've had a few friends but they weren't that close and they'd just leave. I can't get close to people anymore because I'm scared they will just..leave. I usually just end up pushing people away.

I don't talk about my mom with anybody. Nobody knows I blame myself for her death besides that one friend I had when I was eleven. And I think it's the reason why I can't keep anybody close is because I have such a huge secret like that, and because I just constantly put myself down I'm not a very positive person.