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You and Me
and before I forget-My Days-RP fic.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine. A 'The Days'-RP fic.
Title: You and Me
Rating:
Reasons:
Genres:
~The story's always going to be about you and me~ Jackson Day (David Newsom) 'The Days'
February 5, 1989 (Day 1,460)
I start this log on my fourteenth birthday, one-thousand-four-hundred and sixty days until my eighteenth, when I will finally be allowed to leave this place.
Well, I guess I should give the reasons for my wanting to leave so I can make myself out to be more than just a moody teenager eager to be on her own.
First and foremost, my older sister Christina. A total Barbie clone. Most popular girl in school, a marvelous dancer, does charity work blah, blah, blah. She can't sing to save her life, usually has a C average in every class, and she treats her family like garbage but hey, she's got a size two waist and blonde hair. What more does one need to make it in this world?
Then there's the school. I hate it. Oh I'm smart enough, of course. My parents are unbelievably proud of my achievements, but oddly enough the popular cliques aren't applauding. I've been threatened into doing others' homework, but does it get me to the 'cool' table? Of course not. I hand the paper over and then my books are thrown out of my hands. It can't help that I'm what my father gently calls 'curvaceous', and my mother calls 'well-built'. I've got a pretty face, my few friends always tell me that. How they want my amethyst eyes and soft chestnut hair. But boys only see tits and ass, girls only see waistline.
And last, my parents. I love them. I love them so much it hurts. Especially Dad. Yeah, I'm a Daddy's girl, which doesn't help me in the least. People laughed when I played one of his songs at a concert last year, started yelling things like 'dyke' and 'fag hag'. Not a lot of people know he's my dad, they just know that 'Safilix Shark was queer', so if I sing his songs, so am I. Then again, who says I'm not? I don't know yet, I might be. But that's not the point. What is, is that even when I show how I care about my father, I'm ostracized.
Mom, she's not so bad. She's cut back on the pills and booze as of late, but she still smokes like a chimney. I don't mind it so much, I've gotten used to it. Just like I've gotten used to her plastering on too much makeup at the last minute so she looks like a whore, or being too tired to put on any so she looks like a bum, when she comes to school functions. I love them both, Mom and Dad, and I even love Chrissy most of the time, but even being the child of black sheep, I'm so black I almost vanish.
Oh Jesus, that was depressing, wasn't it? How about we end on a less stereotypical depressed teenager line: Dad's in a mood and I can hear him singing to Mom in the kitchen, she's laughing which probably means he's either attempting to make out with her, dance or both. What a pretty scene to fade out on, I think I'll go watch.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine. A 'The Days'-RP fic.
Title: You and Me
Rating:
Reasons:
Genres:
~The story's always going to be about you and me~ Jackson Day (David Newsom) 'The Days'
February 5, 1989 (Day 1,460)
I start this log on my fourteenth birthday, one-thousand-four-hundred and sixty days until my eighteenth, when I will finally be allowed to leave this place.
Well, I guess I should give the reasons for my wanting to leave so I can make myself out to be more than just a moody teenager eager to be on her own.
First and foremost, my older sister Christina. A total Barbie clone. Most popular girl in school, a marvelous dancer, does charity work blah, blah, blah. She can't sing to save her life, usually has a C average in every class, and she treats her family like garbage but hey, she's got a size two waist and blonde hair. What more does one need to make it in this world?
Then there's the school. I hate it. Oh I'm smart enough, of course. My parents are unbelievably proud of my achievements, but oddly enough the popular cliques aren't applauding. I've been threatened into doing others' homework, but does it get me to the 'cool' table? Of course not. I hand the paper over and then my books are thrown out of my hands. It can't help that I'm what my father gently calls 'curvaceous', and my mother calls 'well-built'. I've got a pretty face, my few friends always tell me that. How they want my amethyst eyes and soft chestnut hair. But boys only see tits and ass, girls only see waistline.
And last, my parents. I love them. I love them so much it hurts. Especially Dad. Yeah, I'm a Daddy's girl, which doesn't help me in the least. People laughed when I played one of his songs at a concert last year, started yelling things like 'dyke' and 'fag hag'. Not a lot of people know he's my dad, they just know that 'Safilix Shark was queer', so if I sing his songs, so am I. Then again, who says I'm not? I don't know yet, I might be. But that's not the point. What is, is that even when I show how I care about my father, I'm ostracized.
Mom, she's not so bad. She's cut back on the pills and booze as of late, but she still smokes like a chimney. I don't mind it so much, I've gotten used to it. Just like I've gotten used to her plastering on too much makeup at the last minute so she looks like a whore, or being too tired to put on any so she looks like a bum, when she comes to school functions. I love them both, Mom and Dad, and I even love Chrissy most of the time, but even being the child of black sheep, I'm so black I almost vanish.
Oh Jesus, that was depressing, wasn't it? How about we end on a less stereotypical depressed teenager line: Dad's in a mood and I can hear him singing to Mom in the kitchen, she's laughing which probably means he's either attempting to make out with her, dance or both. What a pretty scene to fade out on, I think I'll go watch.