Another lonely night, I am again left to stare at the now full moon, that was gleaming at me through the window of my bedroom. I do this every night, take my place at the old wooden chair carefully placed next to the open window, which overlooks the ocean view and just let the sea wind run through my golden curls. I turn to the moon, to think about things, reflect as to why I was where I was. My parents, they’re never around, always working, I look after myself, forced to take their pity money, thinking that will make up for neglecting there only child, it doesn’t.

What to get for a girl that has everything, that has always been the question; top grades, athletic, a house that overlooked the ocean, what more could a girl ask for? A little recognition, something amazing, even love. Some people take one look at me, and see just that, the girl with everything, and yet I feel as though I have nothing.

A young couple is walking down the beach, hand in hand, just finished watching the sunset I suppose. She was laughing, he was watching her, admiring her every move. You could tell by the way they looked at each other that they were in love. They looked so happy, I watched them for a while, a steady tear trickles down my cheek. “What I would give…”

I always found it easier to talk to people that exceeded my own age, the cause for this, I think, is I that was I forced to grow up too fast, to be too strong, be too independent, you may think there is no such thing, but for a fifteen year old girl, there is just that.

I have the choice to get a ride to school, I walk. I have the choice cheat on my tests, I study. I have the choice to fall to defeat, I fight. I have the choice to end it all, I face it all.

My mother used to say, that I had her strength. I found that hard to believe, when she attached herself to my father, like a leech. I was nothing like anyone in my family, my ambitions, the way I looked, matched no one I knew. I could have just been insecure, isolated for too long, but if there were similarities, I couldn’t see them.

*

It is the first day of year 10, I pace my way to school, lugging the many books I won’t end up using. My back, already straining. Everyone in my school are as fortunate as I am, although not nearly as grateful. Hardly anyone walks; no one notices how beautiful the scenery is around here, the over grown wild life, the brilliance of the birds, each creature so unique, with colors that are beyond description. Out of all of these, I love the creeks in which the ducklings play. There is always something to look at; this is what fascinates me to get up every morning, rain or shine.

 I can see in the distance, a person on a bike coming towards me, heading, I assume to the school located directly behind me. The two schools have never found peace. Another “he said she said scenario.” I had to take a break; the bag was starting to tear. I lay it down and rested for a moment, the person was getting closer. I just watched, something about him intrigued me. Who was it? He wore no helmet, he showed no fear. He didn’t seem to care that mud and god knows what was spraying him in the face. His dark brown hair cluttered in the wind. His legs pounded on the pedals so quick and strong, it looked like he may take off. Yet he showed no sign of weakness or tiring.

Why was this so strange? Why was it so obscene to me that this boy did showed no feeling to the sludge that covered him from head to toe.  I have been shoved in a cave too long, barred from pain and suffering, spoon fed bullshit my entire life. I never had to worry about the “real” world; dare I be exposed to a little hard work? Never, it wouldn’t be allowed. All I had to worry about was getting straight A’s, getting into Uni, and passing so that I could become a rich- ignorant snub nosed parent, just like the ones given to me.

*

Sigh…the first day of school was typical, quick yet pointless; no lockers, no organization, you think we pay them enough. I took my place, yet again by the window. It was a windy night, the sand swifts rapidly in the air. I think of another life, what if I lived in the “gutters” under the lights of Los Angeles. What if I had to wake up at 5:00 to catch the early train to work? Maybe even be forced to hitchhike to get home. What if I had to beg for food? What if I ploughed fields and dealt with customers? What if for once I was copping the abuse? What if once I felt the anguish of rejection? Who let me get away with this life for so long? I do not need it, what of those in third world countries; who go days, weeks even with no food but the dirt which they walk on, those who are raped and impregnated with no one to listen to their plea. What of those who are forced to drink the same water they wash in; that die before having a chance to prove themselves. They need this life! Not I!

Sunday Herald

Kate Annabelle, 15, was found dead, on a local Los Angeles beach this morning. She had jumped out of her two story bed room window, landing on a series of rocks and glass. Found with her was a small journal, inside was two cheques of $75, 000 in her parents name to The World Food Program (WFP) and another $75, 000 to the Salvation Army.

Her teachers commented that Kate kept mostly to herself, and had great potential to be very successful; “I would have never expected this from her.”

 Her parents commented that they are still deciding whether or not to sign over the cheques as “a last wish from Kate”.

Kate’s funeral will be held in Los Angeles National Cemetery.

May she rest in peace.