Sarah has grown up in a broken home, where her older sister is the golden child. Sarah is just the troubled child. Or is she?
11:56 p.m.
June 28,2014
My mum’s yelling at me. Again. She caught me typing my ‘daily diary’, at least that’s what she calls it. I like to write about myself on my little black laptop. Her yelling at me is the least of my problems. This family is already broken as it is.
I have no father. Well, I do, but that one doesn’t acknowledge his own daughter. My parents love my older sister, Alaska. Shes smart, beautiful, and everything im not. I'm a troublemaker, i guess you can say. I smoke,and i'm only sixteen. I have a thing for nose rings and dark burgundy lipstick. Obviously not a parents dream daughter. An “attention seeker” is what i'm labeled at school. I still think that’s better than, “jocks”,”preps”,and “nerds”. My name is dull, Sarah. My father named me,he didn’t care. He gave me a name out of the top of his head. Wouldn’t make a difference if a stranger named me. You see, my father wanted a little boy, not a girl.
“Steve, look at our beautiful daughter,” my mum looked up at my father, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness.
“That thing is not my daughter.” He stood up from his seat and walked out the door, leaving my mum holding me in her arms. And right in front of the nurse, too. I’ve known that he’s hated me all of my life. I remember asking my mum and she told me the whole story.
Well, isn’t this unusual? Here I am writing about my family. Well, today, one of my friends punched a snarky cheerleader, Jessi. Funny how it started with pushing and the next thing you know, Jessi’s pinned on the ground. My friend Kat, short for Kathy, is one of the most feared girls in Clairemont High.
It’s late and I have school tomorrow. I could go to school tomorrow, but I could ditch with Kat. Well, I’ll figure it out tomorrow.
This is an interesting opening chapter. The blogging style is currently very popular and you handle it well. It paints a very dark picture of a shattered family that is all too common these days, and does it with very effective broad strokes. Nicely done.
A little patronising for me I think, maybe embellished too (that on a negative side). You couldn't be worse than a "Saturday Child" by Countee Cullen- a poem, no way; so cheer up, wake up and take charge of yourself and consequently your story. Feel fine
Reading this makes me realize how different my high school experience was to others. In my high schools (plural cause there's junior and senior high) a lot of kids were from the ghetto, and despite living in a slightly better area myself, it still wasn't the best (thankfully) as I essentially grew into myself surrounded by people who didn't define themselves by labels. People who did sports because they wanted that scholarship, women who cheered not to sleep with guys (though perhaps a perk for some) but because they wanted to go professional. Students who didn't judge you off the bat but tested the waters with conversation, and if you didn't fit, they wouldn't trust you with their thoughts and opinions but only showed their masks. People who didn't like teachers and school but loved their friends and still tried to pass and get their diploma. My friends were among all kinds of groups, people who smoked, drinked, partied hard just to live and breath and escape while others were quiet, kept to themselves, but didn't outright push others away. There was none of that stereotypical stuff and more caution, you didn't mess with certain people, and fights happened a lot but it wasn't something the students were unfamiliar with.
My peers taught me a lot, and honestly the teachers and authority showed more division than the students, and nature-forbid we met their parents. Sometimes I believe it's those before us who set the new generations up for failure and routine of their own mistakes, while others know the world, and all the harshness of reality and won't let anyone fool themselves.
So, whenever I read about those who do go through these stereotypical themes, I wonder what the kids are like, and what the hell would happen if my school students ever met theirs, and what war would collide?
Interesting read. That's for sure. Got me thinking, alright.
This is heartbreaking to read in parts. And sad and thoughtful in others. Really made me understand why a teenager rebels and feels the way they do. When the adults in their life. Upset them and don't see them for who they are. When all the ever wanted was to be loved and cared for and treated with respect and acknowledged for who they are. Not for who they think they are by their judgements and comments.
This is an interesting opening chapter. The blogging style is currently very popular and you handle it well. It paints a very dark picture of a shattered family that is all too common these days, and does it with very effective broad strokes. Nicely done.
You read-requested me on Chp 7, but I wanted to start at the beginning. This reads like an autobiographical story or even a diary, but it's not as self-absorbed & boring as diary entries can sometimes be. Your writing is like storytelling, with good structure & dialogue & description. I agree with Karen's review that a "hook" can be good, but I don't feel it's necessary for this kind of a story. I think your material is strong & interesting, so it's not necessary to create drama to keep the reader interested. I like your honesty & I feel I'm getting the picture of your characters (((HUGS))) fondly, Margie
I enjoyed this first chapter. You are telling me about the main character and her parents, home life. If I can offer a suggestion, it is something I am learning about in my own writing journey, there needs to be a hook. Something that keeps the reader interested. I think I read somewhere on this site under courses that in the opening paragraph offer something that will hook the reader immediately and make them want to keep going. I intend to continue reading as I am curious as to what life will bring to your MC. Cheers!
Alternative, shy, loves music.
I typically keep to myself, and am not very expressive.
But when I write, it's like I'm some place else.
I've been gone for a while, and I'm working on getting back.. more..