Stella's Sick Little Games
One.
Eighteen. The biggest birthday yet. Now welcome in tattoo parlors parent free and cigarettes galore. Alcohol is still a problem, but Canada’s not too far of a journey. Not that these things aren’t attainable, but when it means I can finally do it legally, bring it on. I’ve always had a problem with things like this. Way too paranoid with a bitch of a mother, things that are frowned upon by society are simply unacceptable in this house.
Wanted a facial piercing? Threatened to get thrown out of the house.
Scratched my wrist up a bit? Threatened to get sent to a loony bin.
Was a little overweight? Bullied into starving myself.
Home wasn’t the only place things got bad. I fell in love with my best friend… too bad he didn’t feel the same way. I barely had any friends freshman through junior year. And the people I did call my best friends were nothing more than people who just kept me around cause… well, I don’t know anymore. Thankfully, I’m starting to realize who my real friends are. Then again, I’m still alone most of the time; lost in my own mind.
You could say life’s been a little difficult for me.
Wanted a facial piercing? Threatened to get thrown out of the house.
Scratched my wrist up a bit? Threatened to get sent to a loony bin.
Was a little overweight? Bullied into starving myself.
Home wasn’t the only place things got bad. I fell in love with my best friend… too bad he didn’t feel the same way. I barely had any friends freshman through junior year. And the people I did call my best friends were nothing more than people who just kept me around cause… well, I don’t know anymore. Thankfully, I’m starting to realize who my real friends are. Then again, I’m still alone most of the time; lost in my own mind.
You could say life’s been a little difficult for me.