• Chapter One: Spin-Off

    Well now that I got your attention, I guess I should get started. My name is Libby Caddie. I’m fourteen years old and very tall. Okay so not extremely tall but taller than some (most) of my friends. I have both parents, you know, the normal mom & dad. But then there are my five other (and older) brothers Liam, Leon, Caleb, Silas, and Jasper. I don’t communicate with all of them too much. There are huge age gaps between us. Caleb is the only one who’s in my age zone. He’s 16 years old and we do have a lot in common. Well, minus the fact that he’s been arrested one too many times. Silas is four years older than me and he prefers to party most of the time so I barely see him. He’s in college now too so that also makes it hard to keep up with him. But we do talk on the phone a lot. He calls practically all the time to check up on me. He’s always worried I’m gonna turn out like our mom even though I try to make it very clear that I’m not.
    Leon is 26 and he has his own life. I’m glad he lives four hours away and that his job takes up most of his time. I can’t stand being around him. Liam is about 20 now. He shows up every now and then. Jasper is 24 and he’s almost never around. I wish he was though because he used to take me everywhere. He called me his travel buddy. But now I have a new travel buddy. Her name is Laken Willows. She’s definitely one of my best friends. I have other best friends too. There’s Savannah Washington, Leslie Merce (nicknamed Mercy) , Calamity Seen (normally called Cal or Callie), and Blake Newton. They are definitely the funniest people on earth but anyways, back to my story.
    You see, I have a problem. No one seems to understand when I try to explain it but maybe if I write it down somebody somewhere will actually read this and save me. You might think I’m your average rebel; always doing something that isn’t meant to be done. But I don’t mean to do it, well not all the time. Only sometimes I can control it, just like I can’t control my thoughts. It’s too hard to even try anymore. But maybe I should spin-off from some point in my life so you can get the idea.

    My name is Libby Caddie and I plea insanity.


    Chapter 2: Expectations & Complications

    I covered my ears with the pillow trying to ignore the voices coming from the hallway. My attempts to fall back to sleep and dodge the oncoming headache turned into an epic fail. I threw the covers off of me roughly because the heat in my room was unbearable. I sat up quickly, giving myself whiplash causing me to lay back down. It’s not like I wanted to get up anyways. I hated school days. Especially since Caleb was never in school so I didn’t even feel the need to go but I knew my mom would be disappointed if I didn’t. I’m always disappointing her nowadays. I ran a hand threw my short curly hair. I got up and went straight to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. Gosh, did that feel good. I turned on the shower and left the bathroom to grab some clothes.
    “What do you want to eat?”
    “Nothing. I’ll get something on my way to school.”
    “You need money?”
    I let out a deep sigh. I couldn’t stand it when people started talking to me early in the morning. Especially if it was my mom.
    “No, I don’t. I’ll just ask daddy or something.”
    I heard her say something but I wasn’t really paying attention to her anymore. I rushed back to the bathroom and quickly hopped into the shower.
    After about an hour in there, I finally got out and got dressed. Caleb was blasting music as usual and my mom was rushing back and forth trying to get things done. I rolled my eyes and pulled my hair into a high pony tail. I quickly applied light make-up and brushed my teeth. I grabbed my grey and black coat and my red & black checkered book bag and headed for the living room.
    “Daddy can I borrow two dollars?”
    The man lying on the couch sat up slowly.
    “Pass me my bag,” he said wearily.
    I carefully did as I was told and watched as he took out two singles and handed them to me.
    “Thanks,” I said and left out the front door. I didn’t want to wait for the elevator so I took the steps. Normally I would be afraid to do so and would run down as fast as I could, but today I didn’t want to. I was actually secretly hoping something bad would happen to me. I mean…well I just want someone to notice my existence.
    “Hey Libby Lip!”
    I smiled at the girl who walked through the exit just as I was passing the second floor.
    “Hey Laken!” I gave her a small hug before continuing down the last flight of stairs, leaving the building. As we walked towards the bus stop, I looked back at one of the windows on the seventh floor. The shade was down.
    “You were expecting someone,” Laken asked quietly.
    “Nope,” I said shaking my head lightly. “Not anymore.”
    We made a right and walked up the hill to wait for the bus. Silence lingered in the atmosphere.
    “This is getting old,” I mumbled to myself but I noticed Laken nod her head.
    “Very.”


    Chapter 3: Won’t Most Believe It

    Have you ever tried to think about all of your thoughts at the same time? Well, I have to admit that it’s actually very painful. I keep trying to focus on one single thought but then more come, and I start thinking to fast and end up giving myself a head rush. It’s like I have too many voices in my head. But wait, I’m not suppose to have any voices in my head anyways right? I mean, except for my conscience. But isn’t your conscience in your heart, not in your head? At least that’s what Leslie says. Ugh, I don’t know what to believe anymore. Just because someone says something is real does that make it real? Who says the word real can’t be talking about a chair or a house or a yard or a kitten? Why must everything have a specific meaning? And there I go again, rambling away. But I can’t help it. We should be answering these questions, not questioning the answer. Geesh! What is wrong with me? Everything. Everything is wrong with me. I have no life, no friends, no family, nothing. Not anything. Yet I do have all of those things.
    This is the insanity that I was talking about. I can’t think straight. Sometimes I think about killing myself but not as much as I did when I was 13. Back then, I thought about it all the time. It was like my only escape, my only chance for survival. To feel better. To feel happy. To BE happy. I even started keeping a journal for every time I had a panic attack. Writing always helps to calm me down. Well most of the time.

    10|25|09 - 7:05 PM
    Right now I feel like killing myself. I don’t want to live. I don’t want to keep on disappointing everyone. I’m tired of my name, my friends, my family, my hair…I’m tired of me. I want to start over. I want to be someone new, someone that’s not me. I hate this feeling. This feeling of being watched, the feeling of having boundaries. I hate the feeling of being happy because I know it won’t last. It’s like it’s mocking me. Since when do I cry so much? Since when do I care and feel so much? I want to breathe. But it doesn’t make sense when I say that out loud. I feel myself bleeding. I feel myself wanting to cry but I can’t. I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to. Maybe if I say that enough times this mess of emotions will go away. Maybe only then, I will be able to breathe again. I want to have someone to hold me and tell me that it’s okay to take in a deep breath of this polluted air and still…and still what? I don’t know.
    I can feel myself sinking into the floor, then the ground. I feel myself disappearing yet the spotlight is always on me. I feel myself reaching out to the one person who can’t be there. I can see myself asking for help but not accomplishing…something? I don’t know where to go but I want to leave. I wanna be away from this. All of this. I need more space, I need a new world. I need a new me. I need to be able to speak my mind without wanting to kill myself later. It’s like everything’s gone. But then that doesn’t make sense. I need something new, different,…clean. Clean? Have I gone insane or psychotic? I need things to be clean and organized. I need my own space so I can make it perfect then tear it apart later. I want to slam and break and tear things up and apart and then clean it up later. Placing everything in a new place, a new position. Different. It has to be different but still feel the same. I keep thinking I’ve found who I am but I’m still no one. I’m still hating myself. I feel like I have a disorder that makes me insane, that makes me crazy. I can’t be perfect. I am not perfect, I am not perfect, I am not perfect, I am not perfect. I am not, I am not, I am not. Then what am I? Am I the names that people call me, am I all those labels? Am I like a brand of something? I don’t know what I am. I am me and I’m willing to do anything to change that. Even if suicide is my only way out. No disappointments, huh?
    Out Time: 7:35 PM


    To Be Continued. . .