Prologue
Maybe if I took back everything I did, I'd feel normal.
Maybe if I was myself, instead of a fake, I'd be happy. Maybe if I didn't lie, people would like me. Maybe if I wasn't so weird, my boyfriend would be here.
I'm Lucy, and I suppose this is who I am now. I'm a 'little girl' as everyone says, only 14, still having a life. But inside, I have to disagree, I don't think I am little, I'm dealing with things, I bet you, you aren't dealing with. I'm forced to fake a smile, to fake myself, to fake my life. To be like everyone else at school, pretty, popular, nice, happy, fake, cute, sexy...I'm never going to be like them, and I'm okay with that! But no-one else is, and it hurts me to have to get up everyday and put on so much makeup that you don't even know that it's me, Lucy. You'd think I was Miss Popular, if I walked out with friends everyday after school, in my short skirts and white handbag, expensive shoes and curled, blonde hair. But it's just not me. And it never will be.
In school, my friends deem me as 'perfect'. What they want to be, what they dream to be like. Cute, loved, pretty, happy, confident. But those traits aren't me, no one knows that, other than my family. I dress in black, goth clothing mostly at home, and oversized jackets and jumpers are my best friends. Books and a guitar, music all over my walls, along with photos, from when I was happy. When I knew who I was.
Now, I have a makeup channel on YouTube, with hundreds of followers from people at school, and others out there, who think I'm this happy little girl, living a happy little life with pink sprawled all over my walls, and an inch of makeup to hide my face. I mean, they're not wrong, I have a pretty pink room to be honest, and a inch of makeup on nearly every day, and I swim too, it makes me happy. The feeling of the water as I glide through, also, it helps me forget about everything else in my life. I can focus on my strokes, my speed, my technique, and everything my coach wants, and then I forget. It's only when I'm out of the water I am reminded again, or when I've stopped the music, or stopped the book. I then cry, let it out a little, not be that perfect little girl on YouTube with millions of views and likes, millions of subs, millions of fans. Cause they aren't subbed to who they think they are, they're subbed to a girl, deeply depressed, upset, dead inside, and mentally confused. They are fans, of a suicidal girl called Lucy.
