A new writer

Hello everyone,
My life long goal has been to publish a book. Here, is my chapter one. I know it has A LOT of work to do one it. I consider this my “rough” rough draft. So if you have any advice on something that you think needs more description or details, feel free to left me know! Thank you and I hope you enjoy your reading…

 

No book bag full of useless crap that I wouldn't even use, sitting on my bedroom floor. There is no perfect outfit sprawled out on my chair with a closet full of new, brand name cloths. Today is just another day in Necedah, another first day of school.  I have listened to every old skunk past the age of thirty tell me how my senior year will go by within a blink of an eye. I blinked; it's still the first day.  In frustration, I throw myself out of bed, curse my abrasive alarm clock, and take a shower.

                School brings me no bliss, rather the opposite. The realization of life smacks me across the face as I remember that all my friends previously graduated and the only people left here for me are the group of hypocrites that I was friends with back in 6^th grade. I know it's a sad thing to say because my cousin Sammy fits perfectly into that group but there is no way around the truth. So, with no other option, I follow around the stuck up, pretty, jock girls like a five-year-old boy being drug into a history museum.

                The usual assembly makes me gag in my mouth a little. “Stay away from drugs!”  “You don't need a car, you can ride in our big, yellow, limousine!” “Remember kids, this is a privilege!”

O.K. For all you new freshmen here, this is our principle, Mrs. Saylor.  Now, how she ever got married, I will never know. In words that I like to put it, she reminds me of a power hungry dike. No disrespect intended to lesbian majority here. Mrs. Saylor has this sick way of pissing you off and wanting to please her at the same time. It's like, no matter how stupid I think she is, I still do what she says and try to go out of my way to please her so maybe she will think that I'm better then everyone else. I cannot believe that I have a whole nother year of this bullshit.

                Summer was nothing special for me; actually it was quite good up until the end. The typical parties every weekend and going to work hung-over, sneaking out of the house, and summer love. I guess you could say that I'm upset, I spent my whole summer with this guy named Charles. I mean seriously, that's that kind of name that you only hear old people being called. Despite his embarrassing name and the fact that he was 20 and I was 17, I gave him my whole summer. Unfortunately my summer came to an abrupt halt when I came back from a party and found him sleeping with his ex at the place I was suppose to be house-sitting for. Now, first of all, I've never even been dumped before yet alone cheated on. So the thought of this guy fucking some short fat chick really peed me off, that and I was wasted. Lucky for him though, the door was locked and I couldn't find a way to break in. If I had…well, lets just say I had every intention of going to the kitchen and pulling out the biggest knife I could find. That poor sap would have never been able to please another girl again. Instead, I just sat on the deck and cried, let the rain pour on me.  I guess you could say that I haven't been the same since. Rather then getting over it, I would sit in my bedroom and sulk for hours or cry when his face would flash in my mind. I guess it didn't help that he was my manager at work, and I saw him almost every day. To make matters worse, he decided to come over while I was home alone. Stupid me, instead of locking the door, I invited him in to have a couple drinks. It wasn't even sweet, it was just sex. Drunk sex. And when he feel asleep I rolled over and told him I loved him. The next morning it rained, and he was gone. I haven't heard from him since.

                After that, it was impossible for me to hold a relationship. I got close to so many guys, but when the time came, and they asked me out, I told them no and stopped talking to them. I remember my first one night stand. Scott was his name.  I snuck him over after my parents went out on a camping trip. We were old friends and I remember I had a crush on him my freshmen year.  We had sex, surprising right? It was empty and hollow sex. When we were finished, I wanted to roll over and tell him how much I loved him. When I realized what I was about to do, I quickly ran outside. I smoked almost half of a pack of cigarettes as I cried for hours.

                So, I guess you could say that school is sort of a distraction for me. I tried to stay happy and I tried to stay away from guys. I knew that I would never be able to trust any man ever again, and I would never forget what Charles had done to me. So the first few months were long, filled days. I began to adapt to my new “clique” at school quickly. Surprisingly, it wasn't that much of a struggle to balance friends, homework, and work all at the same time. So at that time I was pretty thankful for being single. I worked almost every night at the diverting store we like to call Came-Apart or in literal terms, K-mart. I worked there for well over a year, so by this time my job was boring as I watched newbie's come in and out, quitting before they even get their 10% discount cards. Sometimes though, work could get exciting when you have the right people working with you. And I always found it my job to harass the new guys that we get in (especially the good looking ones!) I got the most enjoyment out of picking on this guy named Nate Blasco. He came into work as 2000, or as I call them around here the Bitch Boys. He was tall with long, shaggy, black hair that almost covered his eyes. He was shy and cute and of course all of the girls at work adored him. This left me jealous and resentful as I started telling people how unattractive I thought he was, secretly hiding my desire. Another downfall, he was younger then me, that always left me feeling old and awkward.

                Now, I know I am not the most beautiful thing on this here planet. I am about 5'7 with tall and lanky legs. I suppose you could say that I have an athletic body; I just wish I had some coordination to go along with it. I played sports back in middle school, but when the points started to matter my teammates would get mad at me cause I sucked so bad. So, instead I played in musicals and forensics and sang in choir. Naturally, I have blonde hair, but to put a little spice in my life I dye it. Right now, I have a red-chocolate in the underneath layer of my hair with bleach blonde and red highlights on top.  I'm close to reaching my goal in growing out my hair past my breasts; I still have a few inches to go. My face is round, my body is not fat, but my cheeks sure are. To make it even more embarrassing, I have freckles spread out across my body. I don't work out, at all. I've been pretty blessed to only way 130 lbs with my height, all thanks to my vegetarian diet. I've been told that I was beautiful, but of course like every other female alive, I find my own flaws that could easily be fixed my starving myself or plastic surgery.

                School began to go by quite fast. Before I knew it, it was homecoming week. We celebrated with pep rallies at school and fun games and contests and dress up days. Things were so good then. I was started to make friends with all of the girls I never thought I would have made friends with, I was getting good grades, and everything was just balancing perfect. I even got voted onto homecoming court along with this big jock hunk named Travis. The very typical jock, handsome, funny, tall, well built, and blonde. He was best friends with all of the girls, even though I think they were all personally in love with him. And Travis, of course, just soaked it all up. Unfortunately, neither I nor Travis won king or queen. But we still ended up going to the homecoming dance together. I do have to admit that it was a lot of fun. The dinner sucked, but afterwards us and a group of friends all went to the arcade and played games until it was time to head off to the dance. Once we arrived most of our friends were already there. The guys squatted around the table, talking about how much they really would have rather been doing something else, and the girls, with their shoes kicked off, were dancing in a circle around the gym. We soon joined them. Homecoming was my second one night stand. Jesse was one of my cousin's friends from the next town over that I use to crush on for a long time. When my cousin convinced me that I should go to his school's homecoming dance, I convinced myself that maybe Jesse liked me. We talked, hung out here and there, and I went to watch his footballs games. I waited and waited for him to ask me out. Eventually, he admitted to me that I was a simple piece of ass to him. It's a good thing my ass doesn't break as easily as my heart.

                After homecoming is when things at school began to take a turn. Like the usual girls that I thought they were, fights started breaking out and each girl in our “clique” was talking shit about each other. Even though I tried to stay as far away from these inept arguments as I could, I somehow always got drug into them. Or maybe, I was a part of it without even knowing. That was not my only headache though. At this time I was being crushed on. I know, I know, you are probably thinking,”How could that give you a headache” right? Their names were Ben and Chad; these guys were cousins and both of them I knew pretty well from when they were in high school just a year or so ago. It first started out with Ben; we hung out and talked a bit. But Ben was pretty good into drugs and his life was so messed up that I did not want to get involved in something like that. But maybe it was just for the sake my own self-confidence that I kept him dangled on a string with his hopes up. It was around that time when Chad came into the picture. Chad and I have been good friends since my sophomore year. Of course he would always give me a hard time because that was when I was hard into drugs. That's also when most people started calling me “Airhead”.  Chad, I knew had liked me since we first met. I never gave him a chance, he asked me out to dances and such but I always turned him down. I don't even know why. But now, it was like one minute we were best friends, the next minute he was my boyfriend. Haplessly enough, that relationship lasted less then a week. The thought of a boyfriend just killed me and I wasn't ready to move on from what Charles had done to me. In a way, I felt like I owed it to myself to hurt every man I could in the way that they hurt me.

                I was fifteen when I lost my virginity. When they say ecstasy is the drug of sex, they weren't kidding. My girlfriend persuaded me to try it once after she lectured me on how safe I would be. I was young and a complete dumb ass. It was me, my friend and her boyfriend, and some other random guy that drove down to Nekoosa that night. Our driver wasn't going to roll with us, so that's how I knew him, as the DD. We were in a town that I didn't know, in a house of a person I didn't know, surrounded by at least 10 guys that I didn't know. So what do I do? I pop the fucking pill. It takes a while for it to sink in; I don't even know how it happened. Next thing I knew I was dancing with my girlfriends in the middle of the room in jeans in a bra. I didn't care what kind of bra I was wearing or what my hair looked like, how bad I was dancing. All I knew what that I was fucking hot and I could not stop dancing. I won't lie, I would give anything in the world to have that feeling back. I didn't care what the consequences would be for me the next day, or what people thought of me. I smiled and I laughed and I was happy. My friend kept her promise, I was safe. They could tell when I was too hot and they needed to take me outside to cool off or take a drink. I don't even know what time it was when we left to go home. A couple guys begged me to stay, but I had a boyfriend. Ryan never knew that I took ecstasy that night, he lived two hours away. So turning down my offers, I got in the car with my friend and her boyfriend in the backseat and DD and I in the front. On the road I could hear moans from the back seat, road head. I didn't care, I sat up there and dance to the radio while DD laughed at me. Next thing I knew DD's hands were rubbing in between my legs. In that car, in that tiny little front seat, I lost my boyfriend. No ever touched me there before, but how could I stop that warm feeling that those hands gave me as they slipped underneath my belt. We got home and after a long night of playing with my girlfriend, making videos, and strobe lights, I lost my virginity. The next morning I found out who he was. I was 15 and he was 22, I heard of him but I never really met him before. When I got home I called Ryan, told him I loved him, and cried. He promised he would wait for me to turn 16 to take my virginity. A month before my 16^th birthday we had sex, two weeks later I never heard from him again. I knew that he had no clue I cheated on him, but it still broke my heart that he wouldn't return my calls. Two years later, November of my senior year, during Thanksgiving break, he left me a message on MySpace with his number.

Hey Erika, I will be in town for a couple of weeks.

You should give me a call so we can catch up.

Ryan

I was stunned and scared. But I called him back. We hung out several times when he came back into town. We caught up on everything that we missed, it was as if we were old friends.

“Why didn't you ever call me back?” I couldn't contain myself from asking the question any longer.

“I don't know. I had a lot of stuff going on with my life and I panicked. I'm sorry. I know you must hate me.”

“I'm over it now, I don't like to hold grudges. I just spent the past two years in a constant wonder of why you left. And now that you're hear and you told me, I can't help but wonder why, after two years, you called me.” I could feel myself getting sad again. Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm too afraid to hear an answer that I don't want to hear.

“Well, I wanted to apologize. And I don't know, I just wanted to see you.”

I accepted his answer. We talked for a few hours that night. Finally, when it was time to go, he kissed me. It was no firework or heavens hallelujah chant. It was just a kiss, but it still made my heart skip. Every night since that night Ryan called me. I didn't call him unless he asked me to, I wanted to make sure that he just didn't want a piece of ass. We kissed when we saw each other, but he never tried anything more. I was so surprised when he asked if I would say yes if he asked me out again. Still, I told him I didn't know.  The night before he left to go back home we sat in his car. I asked him if I would ever see him again.

“Of course you will. I can come down more often now and maybe even you could come up to see me.” He smiled. We said our good-bye and he left. Just as he promised he called me when he arrived to his house. We talked for about two minutes before he said he would have to let me go and call me later. I waited for two days for him to call until I called him.

“Hey, you've reached Ryan's phone, I'm not around…” I didn't cry. Instead I left him a voicemail and told him exactly what he will be missing and what I won't.  I think about this time was when I stopped crying. I figured that I would just be the girl that everyone wanted me to be. I flirted and I went out, but that was it. I stopped giving guys the chance to hurt me. I grew cold and bitter and resented every man that tried to get close to me. I knew that even if I wanted too, it would be a long time until I would hold a steady relationship again.

I came back to school filled with disappointment and depression. Days were always the same to me. Wake up, go to school, go to work, go home, and sleep. Still, I would find myself consistently alone and never happy. I spent many nights cooped up in my bed room; I knew that sometimes my dad worried about me. It used to be easy for me to hide myself. After my parents divorce, my mom and my brother Bryan moved to Lyndon Station, and my dad and I lived in a small apartment in Necedah. I very rarely saw my dad because I was in school from eight in the morning until three in the afternoon. My dad worked three in the afternoon until midnight. So I got very use to being along and providing for myself, personally, I liked it that way. Then, my dad remarried to sherry. Sherry lived in a house with two daughters. Kristen is two years older than I and Courtney is four years younger. I have never had sisters before and at first I was excited but that quickly changed. With a full house I lost all of my privacy and independency. But I do have to admit, it was nice to have a mother figure around to talk to when I needed it.  My dad was the hardest person to talk to. He frightened a great majority of my friends, to the point even where they wouldn't even come over to my house in fear that my dad might throw them in the cellar and chop them up into little pieces to make his next helping of beef stew. My dad was a hard man, he was always hard on us kids but always for a good reason. I guess that's why I chose to live with my dad rather then my mom.

                My mom was soft, she looked a lot like me. We got along in the fact that we did our hair the same and had the same taste in style. My mom was open to a lot of things with me, but she always left me feeling as if I wasn't good enough. Everything I did just seemed to be wrong. We got into endless fights that could have been avoided, but I guess in ways I resented her for what she did to my dad. Growing up my parents argued constantly. It was a never ending battle between bills and jobs and how they raised us kids. I hated my dad for being the asshole that he was. He use to never smile or laugh and every other word that came out of his mouth was fuck. It wasn't until later that I realized it was my mom that made him such an unhappy person. Coming home from school one day, Bryan and I found a note from my mom to my dad sitting by the computer. Of course being the nosy little shits that we were, we opened it up and read it. Mom was leaving, she wasn't in love anymore. I can't say I remember the exact words that were written but I do remember my dad coming home to his kids crying on the sofa. We handed him the letter and he disappeared into his room for the rest of the night. I have little memories of what happened between my parents, none of them good of course. My mom moved in with my grandmother who owned a bar in Lyndon Station. I remember staying with her on the weekends in the house that was built right on top of the bar. Nights I would put in a movie after mom left for a night of drinking. I would wake up in the morning with her sleeping in the bed next to me and wet sheets. I later found out that the reason my mom left was because she had been cheating on my dad. In a way, I could tell that my dad still wanted to make it work. My mom would come home for a day, and just when I thought everything was ok, she would wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me that she was leaving again. I think that was when my dad and I really started to “bond”. He talked to me as if I were his only friend. I didn't mind if I knew too much then I was suppose to know for a child that was only about 13. I felt close to my father and in a way, for the first time, I felt needed. I don't think I could ever forgive my mom for what she did to my dad. I do love her, she is my mother. But life between us turned into life long arguments between her and her new husband Larry and some days, I found myself wishing I never even had a mother.

Most of my “friends” at school had no idea about the life that I used to live. So many times I almost died. If they ever knew about the drugs and the depression, I don't think that they would ever look at me the same. After all, I don't appear to be the type of girl who would have taken ecstasy and speed and smoked pot every night or tried to kill myself. Right before Charles, my longest relationship was a year and a half with this guy named Bob. Of course I met him when I was in my drug, rebellion stage. He was tall and skinny with black hair and piercings on his face. He was a pothead for sure, and that his how we met, smoking pot together. I don't know what I ever saw in him. I was this up-beat girl dressed in pink and loved to smile. He hated life. After 6 months he gave me a promise ring. Somehow he was going to promise me a future even though he had no job and dropped out of high school his senior year. After 8 months we had sex for the first time, I took his virginity. After that, I swore up and down that I loved him and no one could tell me otherwise. But by spending my days and nights with Bob I began to loose my friends and all trust in my family with the constant lies and sneaking out. Being around someone who hated life all the time, began to make me depressed. At nights I would cry for no reason. I would start fights with Bob over little things. I was a very unhappy person. I would have day dreams of me killing myself, even worse, I really wanted to. No one knew the extent of what was going on with me. If they did, I would probably get put on medication. Sometimes, I felt as if that was what I needed. After a while, Bob and I took a break. It was his idea, and I was devastated even though he promised this would not be the end of us. That was when I met Charles, I stepped out of my box of depression and for the first time in a year and a half, I was happy. When Bob wanted to get back together with me I told him no, and broke up with him permanently. I gave up drugs after a few months of us dating. I didn't mind that Bob still smoked pot everyday. It was the fact that he spent money he didn't have on pot and couldn't get a job because his system was never cleared. No more could I handle the lies about pot and the bills that weren't mine. Because my boyfriend could afford anything, if I wanted to talk to him I had to pay for his cell phone bill and buy him new cloths if I wanted him to look decent. No wonder I was so damn depressed all of the time. Not many people knew who I used to be. After dating Bob, I realized what drugs can do to someone and most importantly I realized that I'm better then that. I wish every drug addict could see the world the way I see it without drugs. Of course, I don't go around wearing my past stamped on my forehead; I'm not looking for attention or sympathy. I hide my past well.

Re: A new writer

Re: A new writer

Thank you for your input, re-reading it, i see where those typos are but thank you bringing them up to me. i will be sure to fix them. I will let you know when I am finished with the next chapter