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Book online Ā«A Story Becoming Reality by Patricia Galindez (e book reader TXT) šŸ“–Ā». Author Patricia Galindez



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Chapter 1



How does it feel when you watch everyone around you enjoying life? Iā€™ll tell you. For me it feels like I canā€™t enjoy it like they can. They laugh, talk to each other so freely, and hanging out with friends in any place. It seems exciting, using the limited time they all have of youth. It feels to them that they have no problems at all; nothing to worry about. Just watching them makes me feel envious. My life is so bland, nothing exciting; thatā€™s what I always thought. If I tell anyone this, what may come out of their mouths is this, ā€œIf you want a better life, why not be more open and socialize?

ā€ If only they knew it wasn't so simple for me. I was born being kind of anti-social, a loner. I mean, I canā€™t even make any friends if they donā€™t come to me first.

Itā€™s really depressing isn't it, being alone like that all the time? I think it is. But, what keep me going are reading, my music, and writing. When I read, I love to put myself as the characters; having different adventures in every story. Music is another thing; I can sometimes relate to some songs, I feel like itā€™s always there for me; even when Iā€™m upset. Now writing is a whole different thing, I can write my heart out by writing down what I feel. Each and one of these things is my escape from this world that doesnā€™t look like it has nothing special to offer me. I still think I exist without a purpose. Thatā€™s the life of Leah Knight, which is me, sadly.

The bell signaling the end of lunch rang, so I lifted my bag over my shoulder, and walked to my last class of the day. As I walk to class, which is math, I saw him

, Donovan Grey. I had a crush on him since last year, freshman year. I first saw him in the only class I had with him, which was, how ironic, math class. Of course, it wasn't like a cliche story where the girl first sees a guy and sheā€™s already hooked. Well, it was almost like that, except it took me a while to actually become interested in him. But, thereā€™s the thing, I never talked to him before, and when I say never, I mean never

. But, since Iā€™m not good talking with or even approaching people, specifically him, Iā€™m afraid something stupid might come out of my mouth that I wish I was also born mute. Well, I kind of am sometimes, but still. I didnā€™t even use the stupid excuse of saying, ā€œHey, do you have a pencil I could borrow?

ā€ Anyway, I know what youā€™re thinking, ā€œHow can you like him if you never talked to him?

ā€ I can feel if a person is good or not, itā€™s a vibe I get, kind of like a sixth sense. Not only that, but I feel like we have this connection only I can see. Call me crazy, but I think itā€™s possible. Well, anyway I liked the guy ever since then. He has those warm looking brown eyes, dark brown hair that looks like mine hanging kind of in front of his eyes, tall frame, tan skin, and has that rocker look that totally works for him. Actually, it was the first thing that I noticed that I like about him. And as for his personality, something tells me that itā€™s something that hardly any guy would have these days. Something like kindness, respect, smart, funny, caring, loving, romantic, and anything along those lines. For his looks and qualities, I may think he could be the one for me.

To bad he doesn't know I even exist.

I sighed as I took one last look at him, and continued to my class. When I walked through the door, only half the class was here. The class began, but the only thing that went through my mind was, I hope this hour and a half of class ends already. Though, what it seemed like an eternity being in here with immature loud students, the bell rang. Outside, I waited for my ride to get here, and no itā€˜s not the bus, my dad always gets me. Thinking at seventeen I should be driving by now? I thought that, too, but I donā€™t mind that I canā€™t drive yet. Only a little bit. After a while, my dad arrived with the Jeep. I love Jeeps, especially the Wranglers, which is the one we own. My parents say theyā€™ll give it to me once I drove like a pro. As I got in the car on the passenger seat, dad turned to me, ā€œSo, how was school today?ā€ Like always, this was my response, ā€œNothing much,ā€ I said while I shrugged my shoulders. And indeed it was.

Dad parked the car on the drive way, and I immediately got out; going inside the house. I went to my room that my parents call The Cave. Everyday I go straight to my ā€˜caveā€™ and do what I always do, listen to my music and read. I mostly stay hidden in my room, away from society. What a life, huh? Being in my room is like a safe house to me, and also like another world, keeping my head in the clouds. I bet thatā€™s what people that have no life do, just create a world they want to live in their heads. Itā€™s really depressing Iā€™m telling you.

At least like an hour later, mom called for dinner, but I said I wasn't hungry. Though, thatā€™s not the only reason I wasn't going to have dinner. I always think of myself fat, so I mostly refuse to eat so I donā€™t gain too much weight. The reason I think that my body is not good enough is that I never dated before. Yeah, Iā€™m seventeen, never dated, or had my first kiss. So, not many guys take a second glance at me, because I think my body doesn't look appealing to them. Thatā€™s when I made the decision of becoming skinnier like all the other girls at my school. All of the other girls look better than me, with their clear smooth face and skinny bodies that made them look beautiful; just what any guy would want to date. My face is not all really that smooth looking, but Iā€™m not saying my face is covered with lots of blemishes, just a little bit, along with a few dark marks from previous acne. Every time I look in the mirror, I see an ugly girl staring back at me. Sometimes I canā€™t look at myself in the mirror, and if I do, then I have the urge to just break the mirror into pieces with my fists so I canā€™t look at my reflection. No guy would even want to date an ugly girl like me, not even Donovan.

I just laid on my bed listening to my iPod blasting ā€œLove isnā€™t Always Fairā€ by Black Veil Brides in my ears.

You always want the one that you canā€™t have, ā€˜cause love isnā€™t always fair. You are the best romance Iā€™ve never had, ā€˜cause love isnā€™t always fair.



I chuckled. I wouldnā€™t have thought I relate to this song the first time I've heard it.

As the song ended, I switched to another called ā€œSaviourā€, also by Black Veil Brides. This song can sometimes make me cry. I always wish I had a savior to save me from loneliness. All I ever wanted was someone to at least notice or care about me like Iā€™m someone important, but Iā€™m usually considered invisible. Sure I have parents that seem like they do care, but I always thought that thatā€™s their job to care. In the inside, for all I know they could dislike me for being a reject. Not turning out to be someone whoā€™s sociable with tons of friends.

So yeah, this is what I normally do for the rest of the day, listen to music to get away, and feel sorry for myself. Iā€™m pathetic.


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


The next morning was dreadful; I didnā€™t feel like going to school being an outcast. I forced myself out of bed and got ready. I put on my favorite skinny jeans, black T-shirt with skulls on them, itā€™s big on me, but I like it that way so no one can notice my fat on my body, and my Vans. I ate my breakfast, and headed out the door with dad right behind me. The ride to school was silent. It always is. Everything in my life is the same, just like a cycle. Wake up in the morning, get ready, go to school, get through the day, stay in my room, sleep, and then it repeats itself.

Dad stopped the car, I got out, and walked to English. The class was fine, because I like reading, so it was a snap passing the class. Today, we were learning the whole concept of symbolism in a story and how to find them.

ā€œSo, does anyone know what the color black might symbolize in a story?ā€ asked Mrs. Lopez.

This one was simple, but I wouldnā€™t say the answer since Iā€™m too shy to talk out loud where the whole class would hear me. No one raised their hands to answer, and when this happens, Mrs. Lopez always picks someone random to answer. And today was not my lucky day. She pointed to me, ā€œLeah, do you know what black could symbolize?ā€ she asked.

"Um...I-I-It symbolizes things like evil or death," I whispered.

"Yes, that's right. Very good, Leah." I then heard someone whisper, "Sounds emo if you ask me." I realized that it came from a boy a row away. My brows frowned hearing this. Does he think that people who are emo are evil or obsessed with death? Or maybe because we like black? I mean, I love the color black and that would be the main reason I'm emo? Not really. I'm considered one, but I'm not evil or obsessed with death. Some people should know emo is short for emotional, which I am. Apparently, that's how I always am. A girl with sensitive emotions.

I ignored the comment, continuing the class. After the discussion with symbolism, we all got assigned to do a group project about it. Well, this is super, I thought. I actually hate doing group assignments, since no one would want me in there group, I was always the only one group-less.

Mrs. Lopez saw me alone with no group, so she called the class to their attention. "Okay, well, it seems that Leah is the only one that needs a group. So, would anyone like to include her?"

No one spoke up; it comes to show people don't really want me. It's just like a kid who's picked last to play in someones team since no one wanted them. I sighed, I mean really, I not so bad. Is it just because they don't know me they wouldn't want me to join their group? What's wrong with me?

"It looks like I'll have to place you somewhere, Leah. Ah, why don't you join those girls over there?" I looked over to the corner of the room and saw the giggling hyenas. I called them that because they're the type to giggle for everything they talk about. Sometimes, I think that they're high, or something, since they laugh and giggle like there's

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