RooftopSinning's Autobiography

That summer, I was so mopey, so upset, because I had no way to talk to Eliot. My mom kept telling me, "Just write him a letter, baby." She smiled. I scoffed at this, everything time, and tell her that I can't do that, because I'd come off as "clingy". Eventually though, I gave him, and wrote him a letter.

(I knew his address, because on day when the class was in the computer lab, everyone was asking each other because someone discovered google maps, lol.)

Two days, later, my brother came home with the mail, and handed me something. Obviously I was confused about this, since I'm eleven, and don't get mail. I turn it over, and see Eliot's name written on it. I raise my eyebrows, and no joke, I scream, and jump up waving my arms around. My brother looked at me like I was insane, and my mom asked me who it was from.

"IT'S FROM ELIOT!" I'd squeal. I ran to my room and slammed the door, sliding down in, and tearing the envelope open. I read the letter word for word, three times, a huge smile plastered on my face the whole time. I literally saved the letter in a box.

In sixth grade, oh boy, I'm probably going to cry again. I'm just going to say something straight up: Sixth grade was the absolutely worst year of my entire life. Well. Besides this one. But sixth grade truly got the ball of depression rolling.

Anyways, in sixth grade, I went through a very fashionista phase. Not the one now, of black and punk, but each outfit was carefully planned and many opinions were put into it. I was crazy as hell. I just wanted so badly to start over.

I was still friends with Meghan, and Janice. I'm not sure if I mentioned her, but let's call her Lisa. She was also in our group. My personal, she was gorgeous, and still is. I was literally so jealous of how she looked back then. She had these ice blue eyes, long straight blonde hair, that had natural highlights, a small nose (which mine is not, and I've always hated it about myself), perfect white teeth (again, something I did not have), and beautiful curves (something my mom says I have, but I don't see). She was nice. I don't know, have you ever read my story Trust Me? I think it's Rachel, but she's the one who comes off as nice and stuff, but then she purposefully makes fun of you, or says something bitchy and then pretends she "doesn't know what you're talking about". Not sure if I've added enough to that character... ANYWAY, she is Lisa, Lisa is her. Lisa was so like, pink, and bubbly and happy. I wanted to be her, more than anything. I started acting like her, laughing exactly like her (I'm pretty good at perfecting laughs, I dunno why).

I just realized something... Oh my god. In second grade, I tried to act like Maria, and I'd try to perfect her handwriting, and ask her if I did it right. In fourth grade in the group of other friends Maria put together was a girl named Alex, who became my friend pretty quickly, whenever she laughed she kicked her leg in the air. I had that habit until the end of sixth grade. Oh my god, oh my god. Lisa always bugged the shit out of Janice and I, because she'd always try to be one of us, and she didn't know who she was. I just realized I was her. I never knew who I was so I just copied everyone else. Oh my fucking god. Okay then.

Anyway, Meghan and I had become friends. We were all friends, and it was all great. Hm. Wish that ish lasted.


See, I feel like, after elementary school (I tried not to put everything in there, to save you the sad feelings or whatever Cx), I sort of broke. Like, I couldn't go into that middle school being myself. It had gotten worse. I not only couldn't be myself, but I was a total bitch in general. I snapped at people, if someone outside my tried speaking to me, I'd just look at them like they're an idiot. Well, I guess, if they're talking to ME of all people, they are. I stomped around everywhere, I hardly smiled unless I was around Ivan. Kelly and Maria had become best friends over summer I guess. Eliot and I weren't really anything, we had no classes together. If someone tried fucking with me, I'd say some snappy comeback, and they'd ask me what, even though half the time I didn't even get what I just say. I'd play it off by laughing like they should know.

P.E. Anxiety. Fear. DEATH. Okay, that may be a little dramatic.. Nope, nevermind, that's accurate. In fifth grade, I wanted to do track for a career... AHAHAHAHA. That did not last long. After recess, I'd lap the track over and over until the bell rang. Now, after learning about this anxiety I seem to have, I suddenly couldn't move in that class. Usually, half the class would watch, and the other half would play a game of soccer, or basketball. Damn. I was always on the team with the outcast kids who couldn't do anything and didn't really care. I look back on that, and realize: lol das like soo mee. Point is, I got in my position for soccer (the back corner, obviously), and cross my arms to my chest. The teacher blows the whistle, and I stand there, watching the ball move around the room, me being the only one not moving. I wanted to, believe me, I did. I didn't want to be the target, the one everyone's eyes fell on, because I was the most visible. I bit the inside of my lip, and wait.

"Ahja, move! Move!" The teacher would yell at me. I'd give him a death stare and as slow as possible, walk around, staring dead in his eye. He knew. He knew about me anxiety, and for once I was more than happy to do something I shouldn't have. He looked at me, annoyed, and I smiled. A.K.A. the start of my rebellion.

Notes

Hiii so I'd write more but I'm so tired I can't focus, so please lemme know- was this to long or to short?? idek i need help cx.