What's the Difference?

I rolled to face my wall and pulled the covers over my head, groaning the whole time I did so. I hated the mornings, and my sister knew that. Maybe that's why she did it. To spite me. But whatever the case, she still got on my nerves in the worst way possible.

“Oh come on Kelly Sky Harrison! Get your lazy butt up and get ready. I'm leaving in ½ and hour. If you're not done getting ready by then I'm leaving you here and you can walk your sorry butt there." Oh, did I mention she never curses...I mean, what kind of bullshit is that? Excuse my French.

“Shut your fucking face up and get out of my room before my unicorn attacks you and poked you with it's horn.” I said, my voice muffled against the pillow. Slowly getting up, I yawned obnoxiously and stretched my arms out. I saw a glimpse of my sister as she closed my bedroom door and most likely went back to her room to cake on all her makeup.

Yeah, I know I complain a lot, but it's just in my nature. So get used to it or stop looking over my shoulder at my life.

Hmmm...so you're all probably wondering what the hell I look like, right? Let me break it down for you in the simplest of ways. A short little paragraph that's of course in my head since you can't see anything I can't see. Okay. I have light brown hair that goes down to my chin in the front and touches my shoulders in the back...which I most recently, meaning last night...dyed it midnight blue. Yep, that's the eccentric side of me. Gotta have that weird streak in there somewhere.

Uhmmm...I have blue eyes, which in my mind they aren't all that great, but people tell me I have “beautiful eyes.” I don't even know what they mean by that, but if they're insulting meor using sarcasm I really don't give a shit.

I'm really small, meaning petite. I'm skinny, and I mean it. I'm the lightest person at my school. I only weigh like 110 lbs...which is really weird considering the fact that I eat a lot. But I guess it goes to fit the fact that I'm a shorty. I'm only 5'5”. So it kind of weighs each other out a little bit.

Moving onto other stuff....my piercings to be exact because I love talking about them. They're my most prized things. I have a lot of them. I have spider bites, hip piercings, a bridge piercing, one side of my nose (and yes I know that's a girly piercing, but like I said earlier I don't care.) and then I have the beginning of my corset piercings.

Cool, huh? I think so. No, I'm not conceited, though I could be if I really feel like it. Oh, I should tell you that I'm really obsessed with Taylor Lautner, Andy Sixx, and the Jonas Brothers.

I don't really have muscles, but I'm not weak or scrawny like those geeks. I'm pretty good in school...wouldn't call myself a geek or anything. I just do my work like I'm supposed to.

The only friends I really have don't really talk to me in fear of their “reputation” being crushed to the ground for hanging out with me. I know I really should care more about the fact that they can't openly be my friend, but I'm just too grateful that I actually have them to talk to outside of school.

Since our town is a small town, everyone knows everyone else, and it's actually a real pain in the ass. I mean, my mom gossips like there's no tomorrow about me.

'Oh Kelly is doing so well in school.'

'Kelly needs a good boy to treat him right. A new family should move into town.'

Yeah...that's my mother for you. She puts out more good things about me to probably overlook the fact that I'm as straight as a rainbow. Ha, sarcasm right there if you didn't notice it dripping heavily from those words.

You're probably wondering where my dad is or if I even have a dad. Well, the answer is I don't have a dad, I have a 'sperm donor.' As far as I'm concerned, he's a live in sex buddy for my mom. He is nothing more to me. It's been this way since I told my parents that I was never going to bring a girl home for them to meet. My dad went nuts. He was yelling and screaming at me while my mom kept repeating “Where did I go wrong to have a gay son?”

My mom and “dad” are always fighting about me, so half the time my dad is in his 'quiet place'...also known as the basement. He mainly goes there when I'm home, but who cares? I sure as fuck don't.
I usually go to school at about 7:15 and everyday while my sister is usually driving us to school I always ask if she can just drop me off somewhere so I don't have to go to school, but of course, her and her goody-two-shoes attitude tells me I have to suck it up and go to class.

I'm 17, and I unfortunately still have a year and a half in this hell. Sure I'd like to get an actual job and such, but who'd want to be tormented on a daily basis at school just to get your diploma and get a good paying job? Yeah that's right. None of them. Nada. Not a single one. So if you look at it from my point of view, it's logical to come up with that explanation as to why I don't want to go to school. It's getting too much for me, but as my sister keeps saying...I guess I just have to build a bridge and get over it. One of the very few things my bubble-brained older sister says that actually is a good thing to do.