We're All Misunderstood

Life used to be great, till I fucked it all up; I used to have the greatest social life, and the best ever family, and I used to be an honorable straight A's student. I never realized that I had any problems, that'd lead to a lot of suicide attempts. I was 15 when it all began to start, I was just starting my freshman year of high school, I still tried to get the best grades possible, I still had my friends, I still stayed close to my family, but I was sad. I don't know why, or how, I was just sad, but I still kept fake smiling, and no one even bothered noticing if it was real or fake. I used to be happy, and oh how I wish I was still happy. My grades started getting lower, and lower by the time. My friends started to change, and soon they were all out of the picture. All of them. My family, my parents, my sisters, none of them noticed anything wrong with me, except how low my grades have gone; that was when I realized, no one really cares. Not even my family. Before, I used to be blinded by the fact that you should love, and appreciate your parents because they gave you life, and you can go talk to them about everything, and anything, and that they're supposed to make everything ok. Of course, as a kid I quiet believed all that nonsense, because all my problems were revolved around one of my sisters stealing my juice box, or eating the last cookie. Unfortunately, now when it came to real problems, I've realized that no one wants to ever hear your problems, except for other people with problems, cause I've read somewhere that listening to people's problems, and having them hear yours makes you less sad. I'm not sure about that saying, but it won't hurt to try. I found a website while googling reasons to why I'm sad, or in better words depressed. The website recommended support group sessions that are being held for 3 days a week for the next year, I decided to go, I mean what's the worse that could happen?

I wore one of my many dark-colored, oversized hoodies, a pair of blue ripped jeans, and of course, my beloved black converse. I pulled all my firey red hair in a low ponytail, I am naturally red-headed, but in an orange-ish kind of way, I prefer it the way it is now. I grabbed my faithful black and white striped hobo bag, unlike everything else, it have stayed with me for 3 years now to a point that the white turned into beige, and got out of the place that I'm supposed to call home. Like I said, no one cares, no one even noticed the fact that I've gone out, although our front door is pretty squeaky as hell, yet no one gave a damn enough to see who got out, or in. It's only 4PM, and it's a Friday, I live in the city side of Maryland, which is Baltimore, so I can see all of these high school students who have just got out of school walking around, and having fun. That must be the proper way to spend a Friday, but not for me. I am friendless.

I kept walking for like 10 minutes till I got to the right address. It was an old abandoned local diner, that was getting rearranged. It had electricity, which was the only thing that mattered. But, everything else was pretty much damaged. From the outside, you could see the broken ancient sign, and the news papers that are covering up the entire glass front side of the place. I opened the door, and it squeaked so loudly and annoyingly, I walked on pillars of dust, sand, and shattered glass to find 6 chairs, facing towards each other making a full circle. I yelled out a simple 'Hello.' to have this woman, who appeared to be in the middle of her thirties popping up from the ground, seems like she was wiping the floor from all the dust.

'Hello, there. What's your name?' The woman said smiling.
'Andria.' I said calmly.
'Oh, yeah! Andria Stewart. It's nice to finally meet you.' She said, still smiling while pointing out her hand expecting me to shake it.

I shook her hand and asked 'You must be Lucinda, the listener, right?'

'Yes! Yes, I am.'
'Oh great. Am I the first one here?'
'No, some other girl came before you, and helped me a little with this mess. Her name's Lana.' was her answer.
'Where is she now then?'
'She went to grab lunch for the both of us, would you like something? I got her number.'
'No thanks, I'm good,' I said trying my hardest to smile. 'would you like me to help you with this mess?' I asked.
'That'd be awesome,' she started. 'just grab the broom that's beside the door, and sweep the glass, and I'll wipe the dust.' was her response.
'Awesome.' I said.