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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1592804
by jnia
Rated: E · Non-fiction · Personal · #1592804
True Life events
Listening to the sound of my step mother yell sent shrieks of anxiety through my body. Every time she yelled, I felt it was because of me. I was never the perfect step child. My step sister a blond, tan cheerleader, popular, beautiful. My step brother smart with a few close friends and a FT worker at age 16. My half brother bright, fun, a computer whiz. Then there was me, a quiet shy girl, skinny & pale, with maybe 3 friends.I was a loser.

I couldn't live up to my step mother, everything I did I felt was wrong, I cleaned this wrong, or why can't I get good grades like my sister, even feeling as if it was my fault that things weren't working out with my father and her. I got the blame, I still don't know if I brought it on or not. Every night before bed I pulled out my diary and would write, I recall the little hearts around my first crush name, the little doodles I would create when my mind would wonder. My diary was truly my best friend, she never talked back and always accepted me for what I wrote, and write I did. Even after my step mother shut the lights off, I would spend another 10 minutes to one hour writing in the dark, when someone has something to say how do you stop them by saying lights out? I was young, a little girl with dreams. I had the Michael Jackson, Debbie Gibson music and the Heart throb posters of Judd Nelson and Patrick Swayze hanging across my walls. Big dreams I had no clue where life was taking me, what child does?


Bright lights hit my eyes as I hear "wake up its time to get ready for school" I roll over and look at the clock, its 7am. My Step Brother, one year older than me is already made it to the bathroom and is in the shower...figures, I shouldn't complain, he was always quick, I only had to hold my pee 10 minutes. I turn my radio on and start to make my bed, I always made my bed one thing my step mother never complained about. Getting dressed for me was very difficult, meaning, I felt I never had anything to wear. My step brother and sister had a "well off father" and he would spoil them. My father and I before he got married struggled, we were poor but made things work. I had 2 closets in my room, one full of junk, games, books, papers, pens, etc. The other clothing...My wardrobe, lots of black..I was a very UN-happy person I felt like I was dealt the short stick, of course my step mother called me spoiled. I suppose jeans and a nice top will do..nice top long sleeve, all covered up. I grab my clothes and head to the shower, my brother..long gone and almost ready to get in his truck and head to school. Why the urge to go to school?! As I walk to the bathroom I see my sisters door open and see her still asleep..figures. My shower, fast simple. Its the getting ready for school that sucks, I hate my hair, oddly I never had trouble with acne...one lucky thing for me. I had very long strawberry blond hair, pale skin and freckles. I had no clue how to put on make up, however I did try. My step mother always told me I left lines on my face from the cover up. Hey I didn't have a mother to teach me that kind of stuff. My biological mother left when I was around two. Apparently partying doing drugs and drinking were more important to her than me. My step mother a Medical Tech at the local University was very busy with her life, with work, volunteer work and trying to keep her family together. She did try to show me how to put it on one day, I remember being in her bathroom and she would tell me to blend it in, she smiled as she helped me. I felt like a pimped out barbie doll and again a failure. I brushed out my hair with my lined face of make up and proceeded to go upstairs and eat breakfast..Pop tarts! My favorite. As I sat at the island I would watch my step mom put on her make up and jewelry. She had a huge jewelry collection, tons of make up, perfumes, etc. I considered her to be very elegant, even in sweat pants. I dropped my breakfast plate in the sink and was heading back downstairs when I hear "make sure your sister is up" I stop in my tracks and kinda shrug..I mumble fine and head back downstairs, sure enough the princess still sleeps. I knock on the door quietly and call out her name, her head buried under the covers, she is slowly moving around. I look around her room to see all the ribbons, trophies, make up, clothing..all name brand top quality stuff. I was extremely jealous. My sister, a couple years younger was born naturally beautiful and spoiled, yes SPOILED. She sticks her head out from under the covers and says "what are you doing in here" I told her mom wanted me to make sure she was up. As I head out I look at the clock, its 7:45 our bus comes at 8:15, my thoughts it must be nice to be able to wake up and get ready in under 30 minutes and look as good as you. I never told her but I always wished I was beautiful like her. I wanted her friends, her popularity. My sister was never alone and I was the total opposite.

The bus stop was in front of our house, which was nice, we never had to walk. Our Bus driver was awesome, older, very quiet but followed the rules to key. I would always stare at his balding head to avoid the popular kids on the bus. I never really sat with anyone, and usually sat in the middle of the bus. The popular kids, and promiscuous kids sat in the back. The scared kids and younger ones sat in the front. The oddballs like me and wanna B's sat in the middle. The ride to school was about 15 minutes. It gave me not long enough to get to my locker, try to figure out the combination open it grab my books and go. I hated walking into class. I felt like everyone was watching me, I could hear laughing, not sure if it was for me or not, my guess yes. Classes were very boring, I wrote all over my text books, I doodled, I wrote notes to my 3 friends, I would glance at the blackboard every now and then, but science, history, math...yuck. I had a learning disability when it came to math so that was always a struggle, my math teacher was very high strung, he must have drank 2 pots of coffee before school started. He tried to teach me, I simply didn't care or didn't listen. I am not sure if teachers give up on students like me or not. My Biology teacher, oh she was a pill! She was mean, if we got caught doing anything but paying attention, she made sure everyone in the class knew. She made us read out loud. I hated reading out loud. I stumbled over the words, I read quietly. I would try to pronounce words I didn't know and got laughed at by my peers.
History class I hated, but my teacher, I had a huge crush on, he was in his 40's married with kids, blond blue eyes and the basketball coach. I swear I almost tried out for the team so he could coach me but every time I looked at him I got little butterflies in my stomach. I pretended to pay attention in his class but was really gazing into his eyes while he read about some boring war. I wasn't sure if it was normal to have the thoughts I was having about him but I didn't care, no one knew but me.
I loved English class, I considered myself a writer, that is what I wanted to be when I grew up, since I was told I was not smart enough to be an astronaut by my teachers. I could be myself in English class and I wrote and wrote, I asked the teacher for extra homework. She loved my writing, the only downside was hearing, "your not the best at editing" even today I am not. Once my pen hit that paper I could go on and on if I was on a roll. She told me I was her prized student and said I could be an excellent writer if I never gave up....What about procrastinate?
During class break I would often see my sister in the hall in her cheerleader outfit surrounded by guys and other cheerleaders, she would look at me like I was a nobody, I still managed to give her a semi small smile and we walked our opposite ways pretending not to know each other.
Gym class always sucked, I hated things like dodge ball, basketball, I hated gym! I was the gymnast/Ice skater and they never did that when I went to school, it was all about team work sports, things they try to teach you but really is a huge place to vent. Do you know how red I got from dodge ball?! My teacher was quiet but friendly, she would always tell me to get in there, get in the game and always used positive thinking and positive attitude as in "you'll get them next time". After gym we would all have to take showers, I hated showering, I developed earlier than some of the girls in my class. I had a skinny body with a bigger top and hair growing in places I didn't want to think about. Open showers, enough for 8 of us to shower at one time. Our gym teacher would stand at the shower door to make sure we showered and checked our names off as we came out. We didn't really shower, it was more like dipping your body under the water and getting out. No hair washing, or body washing, I found it odd. Sometimes I would look at my other classmates to see if their bodies were anything like mine, some were, but not nearly as "full". In the locker room I tried to get dressed under my towel, some of the jock girls and cheerleaders would walk around like they were alone in their bedroom..now that is confidence. I just kept my head down got dressed and left.
Lunch time was always fun me and my 3 friends actually got to hang out and talk. Of course we never ate in the cafeteria, we either brought our lunch or got our trays and left and ate on the steps of the school hallway. The cafeteria was full of to many popular kids, cocky kids and bullies. We tried our best to avoid that. We would talk about our school day so far, about who was cute, what the heck the cafeteria was serving for food and if we wanted to do anything after school.

Why does the school afternoon always seem to go faster? After lunch I had art, another one of my favorite classes, I loved being able to be creative and my teacher a cross between a Gypsy and a hippy, she was something. She hung our creations all over her classroom, which I thought was pretty amazing, it made me realize there were some talented artists in my school.

After school the whole school all kinda piled out waiting for buses, parents, etc. It was like a social gather of clucking chickens for a 10 minute period. Sometimes my friends and I would go hang out at her house and watch TV and chill, but mainly I went home and talked to them on the phone. We were miserable the three of us, we often would talk badly about the popular kids to each other to help make ourselves feel better. I remember in junior high we were all friends, we went to each others birthday parties, had sleepover, then High School comes and its like they are to good to hang out anymore. We were all close then, told each other our secrets and now I find myself wondering, are my secrets being told? I asked my diary a lot of questions. October 16Th, 1990...Dear Diary, School sucked today, I hate my clothes, I hate my hair and I hate not being popular, how could my so called friends talk badly about me? The boys in my class are being so cruel, they say I stuff my bra and I don't, I don't! I can't help it I have these things, the call me stuffer and it hurts it hurts so bad, they throw Kleenex at me when I walk down the hall. My so called friends no the truth, why don't they tell them the truth? I wish I was dead, it hurts so bad, even my own sister doesn't stand up for me.


There were times I would come home from school and cry, at one point my sister and I shared a room and I am not sure but I think at one point she caught me crying. I didn't know what to do or even who to turn to, I hated, hated my life. I often thought of the popular rich kids, are their lives better? We had chores to do after school, and I made sure mine were done, hopefully to the expectation of my step mother. Yes I often clashed with my stepmother, I think she wanted me to be something I just couldn't be, and I drove her nuts. My sister would offer me money to do her chores, I did them, I don't recall if I took the money but I wanted her acceptance. I never had a sister, and when this step family was born it was for me a GREAT thing to have a sister.

Dinner around our house was always after my stepmother got home from work, sometimes us kids would cook dinner, but if not my step mom did it when she got home after 5pm. She was a great cook, I loved when she cooked. I was a very picky eater and she would go all out and make me things like cheese less lasagna. My father was very tied to his computer and would often take his plate and go back to his computer while the rest of us ate in the kitchen. My half brother was always full of spunk and would talk & talk none of us could seem to get a word in. my step brother would often work nights at Hardees and would miss dinner. My sister would talk about things happening in school, pep rallies, football games, etc. I tried to look happy but it was torture for me inside. I watched my step mother look at her, she was so proud of her, she never looked at me like that. I was the black sheep a possible lost cause, a freak, a nobody.

I loved my sister like a sister, but I remember one time she had invited some friends over and she wanted me to "disappear" for fear I might embarrass her. I should have known that was coming but it hurt. She didn't in so many words say fuck off but I got the message. I went to my best friend.. October 20TH, 1990 Dear Diary, my sister has some friends coming over and doesn't want me around. I don't blame her, who wants a looser like me around, I can't even stand to look in the mirror at myself. I just wish I knew what I could do to make her like me. Why can't we be close like the Brady sisters? They are a step family, what is so wrong with me that people are ashamed of me? My crooked teeth? My yellow teeth? My bony body? I want to look like Staci Keanan. I can hear my sister and her friends laughing, I think they are getting ready to go out somewhere, I wonder what having a life is actually like?

I HATE picture day at school! I would beg my step mom to perm my hair, I wanted some body curl, whatever I could get, and she did it. This year I asked for a Spiral perm, it was the "in" thing to do..but I didn't realize actually how far the hair would curl up. I loved it, I really did. It wasn't until kids started making fun of me saying how stupid I looked because it wasn't all the same length. So here I am picture day with what I think is now the worst decision of my life. Can't I go one day with out the bullshit or humiliation? Today I actually wore some color, red I was always told I looked good in red even though my favorite colors were black, blue and more black. I hated my smile, don't you hate when you have to sit there and you feel like EVERYONE is watching you get your picture taken? I felt like this year was actually starting to turn around I mean I even had a boyfriend, a new kid at school and managed to have a couple of male friends, that were not only decent but hot. That gave me something to smile about. So I smiled and the photo, well, lets just say, lets say nothing.

My friends and I made a pack to have a blast this year, a new girl came to our school that year and she had no friends so we started hanging out with her. She was a nice gal from Washington, he dad was something like GI Joe. She actually lived up the road on our block. It was nice having a friend on this side of town. We started hanging out with a guy that was extremely cute, he had these little moles all over him, I found them adorable, he was a very nice guy to my friends and I, those of us who got picked on kinda stuck together, he was one of those guys, although I have no clue why, he was the sweetest guy! A new guy transferred to our school. I told my BF he was WAY cute! He was a version of John Bender in the breakfast club and the moment I laid eyes on him I fell....hard. My BF helped me out, she was more social than I was, far more social and started talking to him for me. I started writing him notes and he would write me back. We would hold hands after school, but never had any classes together. He lived about 7 miles out of town from me so when we got the chance we talked on the phone, sent our notes, or held hands. The first time I got a note when he told me he loved me I smiled from ear to ear. Until he came no guy ever paid attention to me like that, it made me want to actually try, try to be beautiful, try to be trendy, he was the first. My first dance was with with him, my step mom drove us there. The guys at the dance stayed on one side of the room, the girls on the other...with the exception of the popular kids living it up on the dance floor. The very last dance was "Love of a lifetime" by Firehouse. We danced to that song, I felt like I was being swept off the floor, like I was at that moment Cinderella, he made me forget everything. After the dance his dad drove me back to my place. He walked me to my door and kissed me goodnight...my first kiss. A girl doesn't ever forget that, I never have. I beamed for a very long time.

A few months later things remained the same between us, we never did anything but hold hands or kiss, I just felt not right about doing anything else. He seemed bored with me, every time I called he was working on his car, there were rumors that he was seeing his neighbor girl. It wasn't until he blew me off I knew the rumors were true and I was heartbroken.

April 18TH, 1991, Dear Diary, ****** dumped me today. I am so sad, I can't stop crying, what did I do wrong? I loved him so much, we were supposed to be together forever. I hate his new girlfriend ******, she isn't even that pretty! She's average, shes not popular. I didn't want to do things with him, so many girls are messing around with their boyfriends but I didn't want to. Am I being punished? I HATE HER! ******* says not to worry about it and she would talk to him but he should want me not be forced to be with me. I feel so alone, I feel like my life is over, maybe I should sleep with him, let him do whatever he wants, I don't know what to do. I miss him so much! I can't stop listening to our song and cry & cry my sister thinks I am a freak, she doesn't know, men drool at her feet. I hate my life!

© Copyright 2009 jnia (jnia at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1592804