Just the beginning of my novel.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
No one is perfect, but me, I'm imperfect, there is nothing about me that I am happy with, nor will ever be happy with. I may sound vain, but once you read my story, you'll understand, or will you? No one ever seems to fully understand.

Submitted: July 12, 2013

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Submitted: July 12, 2013

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Chapter One.

When I look at myself in the mirror I pick out every tiny little imperfection. Everything is wrong. I’m not one of those girls that you look and automatically wish you were, in fact, you wouldn’t even be able to pick me out of a crowd. I’m 5ft 5, which by the way is the average height for teenage girls. My hair isn’t really a colour, it’s more like three: it’s mousy on the top, blonde in the middle and ginger underneath. That’s weird, right? I couldn’t agree more. I have blue eyes that are masked by my thick black-rimmed glasses which my parents insisted I bought at the local supermarket despite the fact that they only really made glasses for people who couldn’t care less about what they looked like: children and old people. I’ve got nothing against either of these social groups but, come on, I mean why do they need designer glasses, they just don’t. Me, on the other hand, I need something to improve my social standing. Something to make the quintessential teenager perhaps not so, for lack of better phrasing, boring. This brings me to my next point: my nose. My nose is huge. I have inherited what I like to call “The Richie Nose”. My mother’s maiden name is Richie and her side of the family all have disturbingly large noses, I guess you could say that makes me stand out, but you’d be wrong, honestly, it doesn’t. My teeth are slightly crooked, not crooked enough for braces, too crooked to be considered straight. It’s when I’m looking in the mirror that I feel an overwhelming sense of drowning; how will I ever get a boyfriend looking like this? How will I ever get anywhere looking like this?

Before I actually get to the point of this story, I do want to let you know that I know that I sound really vein and self-centred here, but I’ve decided that I’m going to start taking care of myself for once. You see, I’ve had to grow up a hell of a lot faster than the average 17 year old. I don’t feel 17 at all, I feel old beyond my years. I feel hollow, I feel numb, and sometimes I don’t feel at all. I try so hard to fit in, to go out with my friends and just enjoy myself without being crushed under the weight of everyone else’s problems. I can’t. I simply can’t. An alcoholic mother, a workaholic father, a brother who suffers from autism, a brother who is just waiting for his life to end and the death of my sister I guess are all contributing factors to my inability to enjoy life. There always seems to be something wrong, even if I can’t put my finger on what is wrong, there is always something, that little niggling feeling inside of me that never truly lets me have fun. This is my story.


© Copyright 2020 stayjay. All rights reserved.

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