The Ocean's Love

People are mean, because they are afraid to be someone’s victim and to be alone in this unforgettable world. We are who we are, but we don’t show the real us to anyone. Not even to ourselves. By not doing that, we forget who we are and so we start believing in the fake us. Everyone’s fake, including me, including you. You might think that you’re not, but you will realize it one day and you will accept my words and thoughts, but maybe it’d be better if you start thinking about my words right now, because things won’t hurt you when they happen.

My name is Vera but I’d rather be called Mary Jane. Not that everyone calls me like that, it’s just a beautiful name. I like a name with two names – I’m very sorry for explaining it like this, but I have no idea how to tell it to you with different words – and that’s why I’ve chosen for that name to like. To be honest, I lied in the last sentence: you cannot choose things you like, because life chooses it for you, if you like it or not. I dislike the fact that I like Vanessa Anne Hudgens, because everyone thinks I’m weird for liking it. I also am proud, but it’s kind of hard to explain why. I guess I’m just proud of her for what she has reached in such a short time. And not to forget: that women is gorgeous. I really wish I’d be like her. I wish I’d have a beautiful smile, eyes, hair. I must say that I am proud of my eyes, because that’s the only part of me that’s beautiful: around my pupil is a yellow/green line which is embraced by an outstanding color blue/grey – I searched for this color on the internet and it said you could also call it glaucous, but since I have never heard of it, I didn’t use that term – and that color is being surrounded by a thick black line.
I’m not from the United States of America or the United Kingdom or any other country where they speak English, but I’m from The Netherlands. We speak Dutch and that’s one of the hardest languages on this planet. Fourteen year olds like me make a lot of mistakes in the language of The Netherlands. My opinion is that English is much easier, but that’s because I do a lot of things with that language: writing, reading, Tweeting. And not just reading as in reading a little story of less than one page, but then I mean a whole book by John Green or J.D. Salinger.
The first English book I liked was The Catcher in the Rye, a book about a teenager named Holden Caulfield who struggles with the perks of being a teenager and leaves his school to go to New York City, if I’m correct. I really liked to read it, but I had some struggles with some words and sentences. The only thing I didn’t like about reading it, was that I had to read it for school and I don’t like being commanded. I just want to do what I want to do and if I’m not being commanded I enjoy it way more than if I am. There were some parts in the book which were funny, there were parts in the book which were sad and there were parts in the book which were incredibly recognizable for me. Holden Caulfield was a teenager who finds it hard to know what’s right and what not, just like me. The only difference is that Holden leads a not so nice life and I think I live an average life, but I have to make it good on my own and sometimes I’m not able to do that because my feelings like to be obstacles.
I’m not really good in staying at the same subject the whole time, so please excuse me for that. I just wanted to tell something about myself, but I guess you know lots of me right now. Maybe it’s good to just write and not think about what you’re writing, but just to let your feelings do all the work. That might be the best option, right?

My second week of school has just ended and I’m already tired of going. I must say I really like something new about interesting things, but I don’t like the fact that I have to wake up at 6:25am and leave around 7:20am because that is too early. I do like some subjects, but it kills me to sit in a classroom with people I don’t like because they’re too childish for fourteen year olds and just listening to boring stories about the second World War. Wait, that’s a really bad example since I really love to listen to stories about wars. To be honest, I have no idea why I like things about wars since it has been the death of thousands of people.
Speaking about death: I sometimes feel like I want to die… not literally, but I just feel so horrible those times. Do you ever feel like you just want to lie down in your bed with a book and cry about everything, because I really do. And the book really is necessary, because reading makes me feel so good, except for some other times. I’ve finished the book The Fault In Our Stars and I really liked it, but at some points I felt like crying. It was about a girl with cancer and her boyfriend also had cancer, but I never really thought about the fact that my mother’s best friend, I will call her Carla, has cancer too. It’s so incredibly weird to think about it. I’ve known Carla for my entire life and she’s such a nice person with a nice voice – which is necessary because a good voice means that I listen better to every word. I won’t get distracted easily, so I think it’s a positive thing of her and anybody else with a good voice – and she has this really kind looking face, because she always smiles. I just cannot imagine really how my life would be without her, even though my life has changed since I know she won’t live really much longer than this. I can remember how my mom told me and I still regret that, when she came in my room, I said she had to leave because I wasn’t in the mood for stupid things. But I hadn’t looked at her eyes first and when I saw them, I knew something wasn’t right and she started talking about the fact that she just got news about “something really bad”, and I already wanted to cry because I knew it was something about death, I just knew it. It was at the beginning of the spring break and everyone thought she’d die in a few weeks, but she’s still alive and the doctor says it’s a miracle, a wonder. We should all be very happy about it, but I’m not, because I hate it when something really unexpected happens… like when someone tells me I’m beautiful, because I’m actually not, except for my eyes.
I’ve been called beautiful 2 times in my fourteen years of experiences and none of them were said by one of my parents. The only good things they say about me is that I’m smart and that I’m a very good hockey player and that’s all. I must say that I am smart and I am a good hockey player, but as a parent I want you to say more things that are good about me. Parents are not just persons who try to teach you things about life but they should also try to make life a bit more comfortable by telling you you’re a very nice person and that your personality doesn’t suck even if it’s not true. But they just don’t do that and that’s why I think they’re not very good parents, but you can’t say that about your parents, so I haven’t said any of this.
So the two guys – I know, I can’t believe it too – who have called me beautiful are really kind and cute, especially one of them, but I’ll talk about him later. I was in the same class as Stevie at the primary school and he asked me out, when we were in third grade, with a little note which said:

Dearest Vera,
I really like you so do you want to go out with me?

Xxx Stevie
p.s. Don’t tell anyone

I’m very sorry Stevie, but I was reading it out loud in front of my brother and my mother.