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I'm Not Who You Think
Wake Up Call
People are often told be themselves . By a parent, friend or, important figure in there life. At first it sounds strange. How can you be anyone but you. You’re the only you you’ve got. But in fact, that’s not entirely true. There are really two of you. The normal you, the way people describe you and who your not. And the alternate you , the you that’s not you . A you , you may strive not to be, a you, you may wish you were but can never find inside yourself. And the complete, total, and utter alternate of you. A you so far off, so shut out in the back shafts of your mind its almost painful to see your self in such a form.
But in fact that you is always there. The little devil on your shoulder telling you the wrong thing to do (or the right thing depending on who you are). The strange things you may do, yet you may have no clue what came over you. All it really is alternate you attempting to break through the shell which is, you. Do I make since, of course I don’t. Not to you, not like you would you would understand, maybe other you would understand, get it , ya know. Ok. So you don’t know. Well, I know and other you knows so, I’m not going to explain. Cruel? Maybe, ok I’ll make you a deal if you keep reading then I’ll tell you. Now the four of us can get started. Confused? Get over it.
My name, you don’t need to know. You don’t need to know anything about me and I won’t tell you. This story takes place in who knows where(you don’t), and who cares when( you do). The point is I’m in my bed, images flash of James. The hottest guy in the known universe, perfect messy blond hair, toxic, hypnotic , electronic blue eyes. Like seriously, I could slip on a bikini and go swimming in those puppies. Add a killed bod, and sultry voice you can see how the sight of him could make one believe in God because he’s just that heavenly.
But then I can’t help but think about the witchy little twig-ish red-head, Kristen, he has become a handbag to. She hates me I think with a shudder then I smirk, she wares enough make-up to sink a ship. I swear she nearly bit me when he said hi to me in the hallway. It’s pretty creepy the way she twitches around, flipping her blood red hair, with her hollow laugh and piercing green eyes. Those eyes, those eerie green eyes that always seem to be watching you from the inside, trying to destroy you from the within. Or maybe its just my imagination.
I am being stirred. Sure I’ve been awake for awhile but I still act as if I have just been disturbed from a fit, restful sleep as apposed to trying to rest on the choppy Atlantic Ocean as a tropical storm is raging. I see my mother and the mess of worry lines she has accumulated over years of dealing with life mainly my step-dad Rob. Rob is a wonderful man, sweet, generous, rich, and loving. That is, until you actually meet him. The he becomes the vindictive, bossy, irritating, aggressive, jerk-off I know and hate that my mother has become a slave to.
I open my eye “Mornin’ mom” I say with a convincing enough yawn
“ Good morning sweetie” she pecks me atop of the head “ Get dressed time for school” she brushes the fly-away hairs out of me face and walks out the door closing it as much as possible. My step-father believes all girls are whores and don’t deserve privacy, so ever since he moved in my door hasn’t been allowed to close all the way. JERK. I pull on one of the very few skirts I possess (since Rob moved in all of my skirts, except for the ones far past my knees with the shorts sewn in, mysteriously disappeared) and a black and red striped tee-shirt to represent my mood (not so happy). I instantly regret looking in the mirror, im not the most attractive thing on the planet, and I’m certainly no Kristen, but was I always this gross looking? My stupid below the shoulder length golden blond hair is frizzed up in a pony-tail on top of my head, my hazel eyes look bugged out and tired and I look extra- overweight today. I step on the scale in front of my full length mirror. 140 lb just what every 15 year old girl wants, I swear I’m so fat I could replace Miss Piggy. I slip on some comfy black flats and leave my room. Naturally Rob is sitting at the table, pretending to read a Harley-Davidson motorcycle ad but in real life just looking at the half-naked girl sprawled out in the bike spread across the two middle pages. I walk past him and my mother at the stove, making another three course breakfast for him, the smell of grease forcing its way into my nostrils.
“Good morning, Rob” I mutter just loud enough for him to hear, there is a pained expression as he looks up
“ Well, your sure showing a lot of skin aren’t you? That’s probably why you don’t have any friends now, no one wants to associate with the class whore, Twitny.” he giggled to himself contently.
“ My name is Brittney.” I murmur softly as I sat across from him at the table
“What did you say” his voice darkened
“Nothing” I assured quickly
“Did you just correct me?” his fist clenched and unclenched
“N-no I’m, sorry I-” stammered to find something right to say
“Don’t you dare correct me,” he stood up, grabbed me by the arm and shook me as hard as he could, which was pretty hard because he was a cop and navy reject. “ if I say your name is Twitny that’s what it is,” he slammed me into the table “ You’re an idiot, that’s what your mother should have named you Twitny. Fat-a** Twitny” he threw me back down into the chair and went back to looking at his naked girl.
Mom turned around and served him a whole plate of eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes, covered with grease and syrup, topped with whipped cream. Looked in disgust as he started eating the sticky pig fat. He caught my eye and glared
“ No Twitny, you cant have any bacon, it comes from pigs. Don’t you know its wrong to eat your own kind. You sick cannibal” he laughed loudly to himself, my mother, quite perplexed began to laugh her hollow burdened laugh.
The bus came, I threw on a jacket and ran out the door as fast as I could.