nadashead

[nadashead]

"Though you may not know where your gifts may lead, and it might not show at the start. When you live your dream, you'll find; destiny is written in your heart."

-Rob Hudnut & Amy Powers

#written in your heart #quotes #inspirational

[nadashead]

Stage 8: God

Click here to go to the Seventh Stage

My mom actually isn't a religious person at all. She sometimes skips the praying routine, not feeling guilty at all. But when it comes to me rebelling, she's a saint. Waking up at 4 a.m. to pray, and even controlling how should I sit to pray, my hands, my eyes, and how my mouth speak. She prays on time, but after the heat is down, she'll procrastinate her own prayer again.

I like to pray in secret. I don't like people looking at me while I ask God for something I didn't deserve. But at least I never took him for granted. I pray everyday, in secret. Without anybody noticing. That is probably why people gets mad at me. They think I didn't pray.

Her mom know this better than anyone, that the best prayer are the one that was done in secret. And I did that all the time, so I like to excuse myself to another room to pray, to talk to God.

It just felt so much more intimate, more serene, and I could ask for whatever it is I wanted, because it's only me and God.

But mom asking me to pray out loud in front of everybody present just doesn't seem right. Praying alone, without anyone knowing is a sign that a person just want to praise the Lord, in all religious purposes. But praying in front of people, most of the time, means that the person praying is only seeking for approval that they are praying.

"Oh, such a good girl, praying in front of us." No, the good girl isn't praying, she's looking for attention. God doesn't like it, and it's also considered as a sin.

Why can't her mom just let her be?

Even when I finally could go somewhere else with my dad, I couldn't stop thinking about how my life was taken from me. He looks intrigued by my silence and little sobs, but did nothing to ask.

My father doesn't care about me, even when he heard everything I said to mom. Not even if he stared at me, tears falling down in public places, he just pretend he doesn't know. A safe bet, he'll just throw a little joke so that I could chuckle politely, while choking on my own tears.

We're on our way home, and he drives recklessly. He drives so close to other vehicles to cut ways, but when it gets too close to a crash, he'll pull the brake suddenly all the time. I usually gets angry, and scolded him all the way home, but now I'm just glad. I wish there will be an accident hitting on me. I don't even use my helmet properly, just waiting for fate to pick me up from here.

Because... why bother? What life will I live after this? Might be better, right?

Finally, I reached the point that I felt numb. It all hurts, it all stings, but it's all silenced, sealed inside me.

I face my mother with my swollen eyes. She shakes her head, can't think of a reason why would I feel sad when I have everything that she and dad has given to me? I'm ungrateful bitch.

I chuckled looking at her. "What? You hate me? Same. I hate me too."

Her mom was glaring at her, aligning the words in her head to spit out. She's so angry. This kid has no gratitude over what I gave her.

"The only difference is..." I started talking again. "You hate me because I'm not obeying you." I pointed to her. "And I hate myself for not living my own life."

I'm tilting my head left and right, I feel so dizzy that I have no control over my neck. Like a crazy person. "Why don't I go to a party? Why don't I wear whatever the fuck I want? Why don't I work however I want?"

Mother is clenching her jaw, just too close to flipping the dining table.

But I'm not done talking. "And for God, dear mother, how I see him is different than how you do. You see Him as a punisher, as a frightful owner. I, see Him as a forgiver. The most loving, merciful." I laughed hysterically. "I love God, while you're just scared of Him."

Next, (please show some support if you like the story, or not, whatever. Go to the 'God' chapter and continue reading, because I cropped the story so you can enjoy there, hehe. Leave a comment! Ty!) The Final Stage

#short story #short fiction #sad #sad story #sad thoughts #painfu l #tw depressing stuff #depression #depressing #anxiety #suicidal #suicide #writing prompts #creative writing #writing inspiration #scenarios

[nadashead]

Stage 7: Realization

Click here to go to the Sixth Stage

I finally come to my senses. I'm angry, and finally ready to throw all the shit that has been thrown to my shoulders.

"What? I can't what? I can't do this, do that? Then what the fuck can I do?"

Her mother is outraged. "You filthy woman! Don't speak like that to me! Show some respect!"

What respect she deserve? I did all the things she said to me. I did all her chores, her house job. I did fucking everything she asked except for going to work.

"You will use a proper clothes, and you can choose between going to college again or going to work. Not this dilly-dally business. This is a side hustle, not a full time job." She said, angry.

But I was 22. And I don't have a youth, because of the strict rules she gave me. Meanwhile, I know exactly the kind of freedom she has while she was my age. Shorts, tank top, strolling at night, you name it. Why can't I have some of those?

"What were you like, when you were 22?" I asked her.

Her eyes glared with anger. "You dare talk to me like that?" She asked. "The time was different. I don't have the knowledge of religion like you do. Why would you go back further from God?"

Let's pause. So my mom really love some of my friends in the boarding school. The saints. The ones that memorize and recites the Holy Book flawlessly, as if they understood what it meant.

Flash forward, I am here with no memories of that book, with no social life, just helping around in the house, no boys, no sin. While my saint friends, they hang out with boys until past midnight, going around in car just the two of them, dating everywhere, going on couple vacations...

Do you see where I was pointing at? They're hypocrites. People throw praise at them for memorizing the words of God, even sometimes people throw gift and money, while showing no intentions to actually do what the God said.

I don't want to be like that. From what I see, they're not ready. They memorized the words because it's a school target, and not the epiphany of God. That kind of wearing extreme clothing, then a year later posting a bikini pictures on Instagram.

I am different. I want my step to be baby steps, but towards God. I don't want to skip ten steps forward just to move back thirty steps. But that's not what my mom wants. She wants me to be that. Take that thirty step.

Then when will I be young? When can I visit a beautiful foreign island and just browse? When can I hang out with my friends? When can I do what I want?

Why is it always what my mom wants? Why never what I want?

"I want you to go to college, and work with that degree. So we'll be proud! It's all for you, not us!"

In what part is that for me? I don't want to go to college. I don't want to work with that degree. It's all for you, so you won't have to be embarrassed to say that I'm still an unemployed sack of meat in the house. To brag. To feed your own ego.

I cried as I realize that I don't have the power over my own life. I break down. I can kiss finding a good guy on a bookstore goodbye. Kiss travelling the world alone goodbye. Kiss being a writer on a countryside of England goodbye.

I can't have my own life. For days, I thought about that. My dark circles under my eyes widens, I am depressed. My trauma from the past hasn't healed, and here's the new pressure.

What should I do? I already applied to online therapy, but they don't help at all. I can't go to a regular therapy because it cost a lot of money, and I can't go out of the house without mom knowing what to do.

Lie? I can't. My mom is so used to get what she wanted. Interrogating me would be easy.

She also mentioned that I could wear a better outfit if I loose some weight, so my boobs and curves won't be as big. So I cut back on eating. If I did eat, I put my finger down my throat so I could throw it all out again. At the end, I'm not hungry, just sick. And I was fine with that, as long as I have a thin body.

And it worked. It took my fat away, along with the light inside of me. But one day when I visited my grandma again, she looks proud of me.

"Helena, darling! You're so thin, good for you! Great diet!" She cheered.

I smiled. "No, grandma. Not diet." I said to her. "Eating disorder."

She looks at me like I was crazy. She's one step behind boomers, so she knows nothing about mental illness or disorders. All she knew, I was crazy. And my mom is glaring at me, angry because I revealed my flaw.

But what should I say?

Should I lie? Just to keep everyone else happy?

What about me? Can't I be happy?

Next, Eighth Phase

#short story #short fiction #sad #sad story #sad thoughts #painfu l #tw depressing stuff #depression #depressing #anxiety #suicidal #suicide #writing prompts #creative writing #writing inspiration #scenarios

[nadashead]

Stage 6: Occupation

Click here to go to the Fifth Stage

It was the third month after I graduated. After the horrible experience of being an intern on a private company, I don't think corporate jobs are for me. So I'm thinking of opening my own business. From custom printed bags to cupcake business, it didn't work out.

Well, it almost work out. Since my social life is pretty much damaged, I became another anonymous person online. And I have many friends, many of us bonded over Taylor Swift. And I can easily promote my business there, if it wasn't for another factor of why my business went down.

So I was editing the custom bags on my laptop, when my mom saw me editing the Ariana Grande cover to my bag. It was good, but Ariana didn't use many modest clothes, so my super religious mother came to me and asked to shut my business down.

I'm a coward. I'm afraid of the non-existence of a mother's blessing, so whatever she said, I'll say yes and obey what she said. But my hustle didn't end there.

I finally opened my first selling business, a little online bookstore. It was fun, since I like to write and read. I even bought a cute packaging, like a vintage letter theme with wax seal stamp covering the bow. So cute.

But turns out, nothing that I did makes my family proud. Not even when I finally get my shit together and started to get on my feet. Well, not yet, but at least I know where to go now.

My mom called me again, and furiously pointed that I have been spending my time loitering around, doing nothing. She said that I didn't show any gratitude, any endeavor or willingness to show anyone how I should be living my life (to work). And not like it's enough, she pointed that she's disappointed in the way I dress. Pants? Such a no-no. Shirt without jacket? No. She said that it exposed my boobs, and no man should see it.

In my opinion, men should look away if they don't like it. Or if they do like it, still, look the fuck away. Why would I be scared of someone to use whatever I want? Why would I? I am twenty two years old, why did she still detailing every single step I take?

Then it hits me.

She always have. Elementary? Don't go to the school camping, it'll trigger your asthma. Does it ever did? Maybe, but I'm missing out on childhood fun. Junior high? Calling me and my ex out, even when we did nothing. High school? Calling me ungrateful for only remembering bad memories from there. It wasn't even what I want, I just don't remember any good memories from there anymore. My college major? Her choice. My clothes? Her approval. Everything was controlled.

Now I realized, everything I have isn't mine. Every decision I made, wasn't mine.

My life, isn't mine.

Sometimes I'll call her out right back, because she will never shut up about how "You're under my roof, you're under my rules. Listen to me." but then when I asked when will that end, she said, "When you're married."

Now remember the marriage talk, about how I must always obey my husband, anything that is? What do you think? Is it fair?

I think the fuck not.

So you're saying that I should listen to her all my life, and when it finally ends, I have to listen to some random guy on the remaining of my life?

That thought hunts me.

But something inside me makes a sound. An echo, that finally came to my brain, crystal clear.

"I need to take my life back."

Next, Seventh Stage

#short story #short fiction #sad #sad story #sad thoughts #painfu l #tw depressing stuff #depression #depressing #anxiety #suicidal #suicide #writing prompts #creative writing #writing inspiration #scenarios

[nadashead]

Stage 5: Marriage Talk

Click here to go to the Fourth Stage

Some of you might have the sex talk with your parents, but not with mine. Margaret Smith, my mom, is a very old fashioned yet intelligent woman. So instead of sex talk that might encourage a person to do it instead, she gave me a marriage talk.

What is that? Well, it's just a wish, I could say. Some things that was delightful at first, like 'I pray you'll have a loving husband and family.' to a push, like 'you'll be married when you're 22.'

I don't want to.

It's just like, I have been hurt recently by a guy. What could guarantee my life wont scatter back like that? What could guarantee a person won't cheat? What? Because I myself still believe in true love before that son of a bitch hurt me. That we will meet in a bookstore, and he'll take me to a date to the botanical garden, and one day he'll get on his knees, proposing at night in the middle of a field with fireflies surrounding us.

But now, I don't know. Maybe that isn't for me. So when people rudely come to me and say, "You're grown. Time to get married." Or weird question, like; "When will you get married?" I shivered. Like, why would you ask me that? Why didn't you ask how I've been? Are you well? healthy? Happy? Is that so hard to not ask that question?

But my mom was quick to call me out. She'll get mad and tell me that if anyone ever give a good wish about me getting married, just say 'amen.' But I don't want to. So now if someone ask me about marriage, I'll just give them a smile and walk away. I'll pretend I didn't hear anything.

My mom marriage talk is... devastating. You have to be a pro at cleaning your house. So when I was ten years old, I will get on my knees and crawl around the house at 5 a.m. to mop the floor. And it didn't even stop there. Until now, I sweep, mop, do the laundry, dishes, dust everything. I was programmed to move when I saw my mother work, programmed to take away her work. So when I lay down to relax, I'll feel guilty.

Which is different with my sister, Dove. She barely did the chores when we were younger. Now that we're grown, she took away one of my chores: washing dishes at night. That means the dishes in the morning and midday is mine to do.

Sometimes I wonder why did I have so much weight on my shoulders like this. Was this really a prep for my marriage? Why can't I be like mother, have a child and tell her to do my chores? That's what a house wife for, right?

So what actually the lesson of this all? Why did I feel so fucking guilty of not showing my nose to the living room, offering my smile to everyone? Why? Can't I feel sad?

Moreover, everything that I did was told that the purpose is for my future husband. To clean your body, so your husband will like it. To do the dishes, so your husband will have a clean house. To be smart, so that your husband will have bright minded children.

If I'm not mistaken, marriage is between a husband and a wife.

When will the wife mentioned? Why didn't I hear anything about what the wife want?

To never refuse sex if your husband asked you to. That it was never a rape if it was your husband. To do whatever the fuck he asked you to. To cover his dirt, even if he hurt you.

Bitch, who want that?

Simply, I disagree to whatever my mom said in her marriage talk. But I don't say a thing, I kept it all to myself.

Next, Sixth Stage

#short story #short fiction #sad #sad story #sad thoughts #painfu l #tw depressing stuff #depression #depressing #anxiety #suicidal #suicide #writing prompts #creative writing #writing inspiration #scenarios

[nadashead]

Stage 5: College

I failed my SAT's. I'm not accepted to my dream university. Not even the second choice. Not even the third one. I was devastated, breaking down on my bed, crying almost everyday. I was a disappointment. People will look at me and mock me along the way. I can't even look at my face anymore.

I'm fat. I'm ugly. I'm fucking stupid.

I thought I will have a life figured out, but no, not at all. I don't even know what will I do after this. What will I do?

My mom finally came up with a solution to help, by selecting a random major in college I can attend. I have never heard of that major my whole life, but rather than not going to college? I'll fucking take it.

But again, mistake.

The years are super fast, and some good things did happen. Now that I'm not inside a religious environment, I could be a little free from crazy dresscodes and etiquette. I was kind, caring and understanding. So people like me easily.

Turns out the standard of this university is even lower than my high school, so my grades went all up high again, and I was a star. Even the head student council fancies me a bit, even if he wont admit it until now. He has a tender side that he only shows to me. From exchanging letters even when we could text instead, writing notes to each other, stealing each other's bracelet, and more. A girl pinned me to the wall one time, claiming that I stole the head student council. So I spit the truth saying that if I let him go, he still would chose me.

But nothing actually happenned with me and him. I was just bluffing, but that girl knew I was right. The truth is, I don't want to be kept hanging, waiting for him to express his feeling. What a waste of time. And on the other hand, I'm not sure if I was into him either. He's great and all, but he's so uptight and has a vision to be a leader. Me? I don't want to be the first lady of the country. So pass.

But I caught another guy. This one is... tricky. He cheated multiple times and seems like he had hit rock bottom, so because I'm kind (or stupid, there is no in-between), I gave him a second chance. Spoiler alert, he cheated on me too.

Next thing is, I graduated. Summa cum laude. Surprisingly, doesn't feel as good as I thought it would be. Just like, wow, then it passed like a wind. Doesn't matter at all. What, you want proof? I'm unemployed until now.

The cheating guy was so rough on my mind. He gaslighted me, played victim and left me when I was sick because of his actions. He kissed his ex, while ghosting on my texts that I opened since 8 a.m. all the way through until 4 a.m. 20 hours of waiting.

How would I know? I stalked her ex. Her twitter is an open diary that anyone can see. And with her tweets I can say that he did much worse. I knew. That breaks my self esteem. I know I'm fat that it covers my beauty. I also feel boring, and there's no feeling so sad like can't keep a man for yourself. If I had a husband, will he stay?

So we broke up. But that son of a bitch dated another girl, completely different from her ex. Rumors changed to facts, his friends told me that he's been fucking five different girls while he was with me, because I couldn't give him sex.

I don't even know what to do. I laughed, but I feel sad. I cried, but then I feel numb. So many times I tried to feel again, but all I got is nothing. I feel nothing. Feeling I got is just empty humor because I streamed so many comedy series, full because I ate, and sick. All the time.

That doesn't go well for my body. One day I decided to go see my grandmother, with all my family. She saw me coming to her room, and gasped.

"Helena, darling! You're so fat, you look like a pig!" She said.

I was torn.

Was I so hideous? I don't feel very well, because I just finished intern jobs at a private company and I work there like it was slavery era. My bones are sore everywhere I move because I got crazy jobdesk that needs to be finished that day. I promise myself I wont work in that region, but unfortunately, it was the only job I could land to, with my degree.

Confirmed, I am fat, ugly and useless. But come see the bright side with me; it couldn't get any worse.

Right?

#short story #short fiction #sad #sad story #sad thoughts #painfu l #tw depressing stuff #depression #depressing #anxiety #suicidal #suicide #writing prompts #creative writing #writing inspiration #scenarios

[nadashead]

Stage 4: High School

Click here to go to the Third Stage

This is where all the fucked up things happen. The fucking dark hole of my life. I started my high school in the same school again, when I realize that school was a dumpster. Eight periods, and six of the teacher ditch the class. The fucking teacher ditch the class. Explain the shit to me! Since when teachers ditching classes?

I moved to a religious boarding school on a faraway town, because I thought I could receive more than the previous school. I want to go to a good college one day, and this is the way I will get.

But turns out, it was the biggest mistake I have ever made.

I will make this shorter for you all. First, I arrive late, a year later. When everyone else has making friends, I just arrived there, taking my bed upstairs to my room, all by myself. Second, there is no privacy. In that room, you can't cry without people asking you why or judging you. Third, it was all girls, and their mouth is nasty. Spreading rumors, false accusations, but act like an angels.

Eventually, I gather myself a group of friends and we get along together. It was the four of us, four freaks against them all. The closest to me is Vanya, because she is from other continent, and even though it wasn't very far from the island that I live, we bond tighter than the rest of the gang.

But then, another gang showed up. A group of nine rumor spreaders that just like the controversy. I like to say that they crave attention, especially from men, since there are none of them here. With breaking the rules, they'll get face to face with the principal, punishment teachers and many more. Odd, but they always get along with those teachers.

It's like, they're scolded for a second, then celebrating their mistakes with apple cider after. What's the point in scolding them?

The result is, they aren't scared of the teachers. They bully left and right, hooking up with every boy they found from next building, and did whatever was written in the rules.

Why did I hate them? Because one day I joined a club, and I was new, so I entered the room with a coy look. I come to the audition, did my best, then leave, because the announcement took several weeks. And yes, I got my membership for the club.

But the gang didn't get the part. They spread shit about me saying that I'm a pick-me girl, trying to kiss everybody's ass and told them to get their asses ready. At first I just thought, oh, jealousy. But then it got rough. They criticize every damn thing I do. My writing, my grades, my singing, everything. And none of it was a good thing, just pure evil thing to say.

She sound like a chicken. Her grades are too low to be here. She got fat, right?

Actually, some of it was true. I did gain some weight, and my grades are crashing, but it was because of them. They hid my bathing supplies, swapped my clothes, and so much more I don't really want to remember. I cried so many nights, because the more I talk to people about how I feel, the more lies they produce so that people will turn to them.

And it wasn't just me. Our friends are accused of being a lesbian. It was bad for a religious boarding school, it makes her has so little friend. Other ones accused of kleptomania. They know so little of how their lies affected other people, but this affected me more than I thought it would.

Seeing them hanging with the teachers, making me think: I was overreacting. Why would I cry? Even the teachers thinks it was just a prank. But if it was, why does it hurt? Why did I remember all that until now? Why can't I see my high school uniform without panic attacks? Why?

My mother always tell me that whatever I did, do the right thing. Not because it's right, but because we can't afford to travel all the way to my school if something went wrong. So behave. That's what I remember coming from her.

And more, the disappointment. My grades went downhill, I can't memorize the holy book of my religion's at all, and my grades report are bad as fuck. Horrible. Seeing my parents disappointed was exhausting for me. I wasn't just the golden child, but also the one that my siblings look up to.

Not enough that I was mentally broken because of those bastard girls, I was broken because I see my family hope rumbles, because of me.

Next, Fifth Stage

#sad #sad fiction #sad story #sad thoughts #short fiction #short story #creative writing #writing prompts #writing inspiration #scenarios #depressing #depression #tw depressing stuff #suicide

[nadashead]

This is where all the fucked up things happen. The fucking dark hole of my life. I started my high school in the same school again, when I realize that school was a dumpster. Eight periods, and six of the teacher ditch the class. The fucking teacher ditch the class. Explain the shit to me! Since when teachers ditching classes?

I moved to a religious boarding school on a faraway town, because I thought I could receive more than the previous school. I want to go to a good college one day, and this is the way I will get.

But turns out, it was the biggest mistake I have ever made.

I will make this shorter for you all. First, I arrive late, a year later. When everyone else has making friends, I just arrived there, taking my bed upstairs to my room, all by myself. Second, there is no privacy. In that room, you can't cry without people asking you why or judging you. Third, it was all girls, and their mouth is nasty. Spreading rumors, false accusations, but act like an angels.

Eventually, I gather myself a group of friends and we get along together. It was the four of us, four freaks against them all. The closest to me is Vanya, because she is from other continent, and even though it wasn't very far from the island that I live, we bond tighter than the rest of the gang.

But then, another gang showed up. A group of nine rumor speaders that just like the controversy. I like to say that they crave attention, especially from men, since there are none of them here. With breaking the rules, they'll get face to face with the principal, punishment teachers and many more. Odd, but they always get along with those teachers.

It's like, they're scolded for a second, then celebrating their mistakes with apple cider after. What's the point in scolding them?

The result is, they aren't scared of the teachers. They bully left and right, hooking up with every boy they found from next building, and did whatever was written in the rules.

Why did I hate them? Because one day I joined a club, and I was new, so I entered the room with a coy look. I come to the audition, did my best, then leave, because the announcement took several weeks. And yes, I got my membership for the club.

But the gang didn't get the part. They spread shit about me saying that I'm a pick-me girl, trying to kiss everybody's ass and told them to get their asses ready. At first I just thought, oh, jealousy. But then it got rough. They critize every damn thing I do. My writing, my grades, my singing, everything. And none of it was a good thing, just pure evil thing to say.

She sound like a chicken. Her grades are too low to be here. She got fat, right?

Actually, some of it was true. I did gain some weight, and my grades are crashing, but it was because of them. They hid my bathing supplies, swapped my clothes, and so much more I don't really want to remember. I cried so many nights, because the more I talk to people about how I feel, the more lies they produce so that people will turn to them.

And it wasn't just me. Our friends are accused of being a lesbian. It was bad for a religious boarding school, it makes her has so little friend. Other ones accused of kleptomania. They know so little of how their lies affected other people, but this affected me more than I thought it would.

Seeing them hanging with the teachers, making me think: I was overreacting. Why would I cry? Even the teachers thinks it was just a prank. But if it was, why does it hurt? Why did I remember all that until now? Why can't I see my high school uniform without panic attacks? Why?

My mother always tell me that whatever I did, do the right thing. Not because it's right, but because we can't afford to travel all the way to my school if something went wrong. So behave. That's what I remember coming from her.

And more, the disappointment. My grades went downhill, I can't memorize the holy book of my religion's at all, and my grades report are bad as fuck. Horrible. Seeing my parents disappointed was exhausting for me. I wasn't just the golden child, but also the one that my siblings look up to.

Not enough that I was mentally broken because of those bastard girls, I was broken because I see my family hope rumbles, because of me.

#sad #sad story #sad fiction #sad thoughts #short fiction #short story #interactive story #creative writing #writing prompts #scenarios #writing inspiration #depressing #depression #tw depressing stuff #depressed #suicide #suicidal

[nadashead]

Stage 3: Junior High

Click here to go to the Second Stage

My life started to slide down a little from this point. I still am a beautiful girl that everybody adores, The Helena Smith. The school is still the same one, but the friends are not. Sure, there's still some kids that I know, my friends from elementary, but most flew away from The Kalu Island. Why? I don't know.

All I know is that now, boys and girls classes are separated. Right, religious school. All the things they do just makes teenager want to commit a sin more. Don't talk to boys! Don't date anyone! Don't do this! Don't do that! And what did we do? The complete opposite.

This is such a hormonal, disgusting phase that ironically is my last stage of life where I feel confident and proud of myself. The last peak, the last victory.

It all went well. I'm still popular, still pretty, still smart, even act as a basketball captain for some games. I even got a taste of romance, even if it was a puppy love.

The first one was a sweet guy, which my mom approves because he's so obvious with his move. Greeting her, shouting my name, denying school rules that boys and girls aren't supposed to talk. It was easy for him, he was loved by everyone.

But love does expires. A year with him, he doesn't even remember having me. He flirted with so many girls all year long, and when the new years eve struck, he texted me saying 'Happy New Year. I love you."

But it was done. I broke up with him afterwards, he loves someone else. I can't say he cheated, since it was just a puppy love, but he kind of did. Oddly, I don't feel heartbroken at all. It was weird and stings a bit, but I was still that bad bitch that walks confidently down the hall.

Which brings me to the next guy. I was skeptical at first, since he was my best friend's ex. Me, Soleil, Maya and Jane are best friends since elementary school. We misbehaved a lot, and must face the principal multiple times because other kids didn't approve our gang, saying that they can't be friends with us because we're too close together.

A stupid reason.

But we're now in separated class. I'm with Jane and Soleil with Maya. But lets go back to the Soleil's ex being close to me.

He's a shy kid with glasses that surprisingly sweet. He started from zero because I was absolutely disgusted by him in the first place (no reason), and being head over heels in only three months. We're a sweethearts, and everyone love us.

Sadly, it all must end because... I don't remember why. I remember it got all rough, he's not checking on him anymore, all the flirting with another girl, and my mom doesn't like him. She said that he's too discreet in everything he does, which I like. I like quiet guys.

I cried a couple times after he and I broke up, but I get over him in no time. But I bounce back to craving him when he caught another girl in just a damn week. Bitch! How?

But he called a few times even after he's with that girl, saying he couldn't stop thinking about me. Laughing at the girls back, I finally moved on thinking I wasn't easy to forget. Don't underestimate me.

And that's where I met another guy. No, I'm not a whore. And if I am, none of your fucking business to judge me. But this guy is crazy over me since the first time we met. He likes me, his mother likes me, his whole family likes me, even my mother likes his whole family.

But I didn't like him. Not at all.

Have you heard of love at the first sight? This is the opposite. You saw a person, and you promised yourself, vowed that you will never marry that kind of guy, which has no reason why. Because he's handsome, tall, rich, and adores me, but I just can't accept him. No, I can't even think of being on a place alone with him. Ugh.

I actually asked myself, why? Why didn't I like this guy? He's great! But I just can't accept him, so I concluded that he's not the one for me.

Then, the truth is revealed. He told his friends that I rejected him, and told them to bully the shit out of me. Which is confusing, because his gang is all goody-two-shoes and religious as hell. But I am more powerful than all them combined, so I don't give a shit about what they say about me.

On the other hand, I split ways with my old gang. Now I have new gang, with nine girls included. Too much, I won't confuse you all with their names. We used to be so close together but that lasted like a year, and we split again. Now that I look back, friendship are crazy when I was children.

Overall, I can say that my junior high is pretty well. Not bad, not really great, but people still look up to me.

Next, Fourth Stage

#sad #short story #short fiction #sad story #sad thoughts #depressing #depressed #depression #tw depressing stuff #interactive story #suicide #suicidal

[nadashead]

Stage 2: Elementary

Click here to go to the First Stage

I moved to a different state before I started elementary. My father had to move for his work, and we all come with him to this new, exotic state. It was much hotter, but the most beautiful island in the world, The Kalu Island.

My school hasn't even fully built when I first got in there. There was two class, teacher's office, a bathroom, and construction sites. That's it. But as the six years walks past, they developed a quite nice school, the best of fullday religious school. We all wear a long skirts for girls, trousers for boys, and both wear a long sleeve shirt.

I was a great student. I'm smart in so many ways. English, mathematics, science, verbal communications, you name it.

Everyone wants to be my friend. Either they're talking to me, or they're staring at me wishing to be my friends. Well, either that or cursing me for being such a social butterfly. At this point, I was still pure as fuck, not knowing such thing, like negativity and shit. All I know is that I'm loved and I love those people back.

My problem here was, surprisingly with a grown ass men. Too petty to receive an advice, that guy—known as religious teacher—throws a tantrum like a little child. Making my mom furious of his childish behaviour.

The thing about our school is that we don't have so much money. It's an expensive school, but the money is nowhere to be found, which is confusing. Where does all the money go when we need to throw a dance recital?

And the problem is that pre-graduation, he wanted a grand ball. But not everyone could afford to pay that shit, yet he insisted for everyone to join. Some parents are glad (rich ones), and some are devastated (lower class).

But my mom is an intelligent, and my teacher is an idiot that could only talk about religion based on his research. That's why he gave such dangerous speech everywhere. So short story, my mom pointed out that the graduation doesn't have to be grand like that. He disrespected my mom by calling her out and calling her names behind her back, but in front of me.

I was a snitch, so I tell my mom what he told me. She despised him, and I did as well. I'm a bit of a Kardashian that way, whenever someone attack my family, I'll be with them, sticking.

I still hold grudges to that man for what he did to my mother, but nothing else was bad from my elementary school. I'm smart, loved, and popular. Like, popular popular. And plus, I got piano lessons, swimming course and Japanese Mathematics course that support me throughout my elementary years.

I got perfect score on my final senior exams, a fucking hundred. My parents are proud, my teachers are proud, and the best thing was, I beat two motherfuckers that almost outsmarted me. I was a fucking winner.

Next, The Third Stage

#short fiction #short story #sad #sad fiction #sad thoughts #depressing #depression #tw depressing stuff

[nadashead]

Stage 1: Preschool

It was a beautiful day. Well, I lied. Do you remember your memories from age 1 to 5? Neither do I. But I do remember that it was the day my fucking rich grandfather bought my parents a big house, with 4 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. My dad works at food and beverage company, and my mom works at a law firm.

Now, people say that I was babysitted by my aunt and grandma, but I don't remember spending any time with them. Not at all. But that happens so I'm just going to put that here as a detail.

And my mom did mention that she quit her job because at some point, I choose my nanny over her. Which I don't remember either, who the fuck is this nanny mentioned? No memory or image of her entered my mind.

In no time, I grew and finally entered my first school ever, Grendale Preschool. It wasn't fancy, but it does fun. There's a lot of toys and big playground, there's a rabbit cage with three rabbits, and there's a pool. Amazing.

And the friends are great. We're little, so we play all the time, do dumb things children do. Run, fall, cry, repeat. People say that I hide under the teacher's desk on my first day, but do I? I don't know.

My bad memories that I know is that:

One, I was outsmarted by a girl in my class. I said the night sky is dark blue, but she said that it was black. She's the right one.

Two, I was once hit by an iron swing. It flew me off, and I was rushed to the emergency room right away. I had stitches on my upper left lip, that remained until today.

Three, the kids on the bus ride home kicks my feet with their muddy wet shoes on a rainy day. My feet is so dirty and I cried all the way home.

But overall, I think my life is great in this stage. My family hasn't had a sturdy feet, but we tried our best and I'm too young to be whining about our conditions. We're laughing, we're eating, we're happy. That's enough. Such a good old life.

#sad fiction #sad #short fiction #short story #depressing #tw depressing stuff

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Get to Know Helena Smith

Hey, I'm Helena. I'm that lazy bitch you're reading on the first chapter. Did you think it was rough, what people call me? Let me tell you something, it's not. It's the nicest insult people gave me that I know, and I'm sure there's many more of that names they call me behind my back.

I'm a cis girl, straight. My religion should not be mentioned, you can say that I'm not really a religious person but I do rely to God all the time. I'm a firstborn in a happy family, with a sister and a brother.

One more, I'm a mixed kid, with two cultures that extremely judgemental towards anybody different. So that may explain my struggle in life.

Anything else could be find in the next chapter, I suppose. I wish I survive telling this story to you guys, because writing this means opening my scars and I might wreck myself. But who cares, right? Even I don't! So what the hell, here we go!

Next, The First Stage

#sad story #sad thoughts #sad fiction #short fiction #short story #sad #depressing #tw depressing stuff #depressed #suicide #suicidal

[nadashead]

Helena Smith: Take My Life

There she is. A big junk of meat that loitering around with nothing on her shoulders. No weight, no responsibilities, none. Just unemployed, obese girl that lies around the house and sometimes do the chores, if she was asked. Her brain is no longer sharp, due to the gap from the graduation and nothing. No applications, no endeavor to find a job, no fucking gratitude. A family disgrace, a disappointment.

People walk on egg shells around her. She's a namby-pamby millenial that speaks so hard on mental health without actually doing something for her mental health. If she doesn't feel good, why didn't she seek any help? Go to a fucking therapist. Go communicate. One conclusion, she's just a lazy bitch.

Her parents did everything for her. She's a family hope, the brightest of the whole siblings. She used to be smart, stars in sport, aced her test, a fucking celebrity in her school. When does it change? Bet her parents asked themselves, 'Where did I went wrong?'.

Again, she came out with swollen eyes, crying from non-existent pain she dwells herself in. Such ungrateful bastard.

She's not rich, not poor, but enough. She doesn't dress well, but that's probably because she doesn't take care of her body. Nothing could fit on her. That's on her, her own fault. She's actually pretty, steaming beautiful, but it all thrown out of the window with all that fat framing her face.

Many people laugh at her. With sharp mind, beautiful face and curvy body, she didn't take the world on her grip. People think that it's a comedy, how all that could fade in a blink of an eye.

People think of her as a joke.

As a disgrace.

As a disappointment.

Does anyone knows what she had been through? Well, some knows.

Does they care?

No.

So come, read the story and decide what she is.

1. The Introduction

2. The First Stage

3. The Second Stage

4. The Third Stage

5. The Fourth Stage

6. The Fifth Stage

7. The Sixth Stage

8. The Seventh Stage

9. The Eighth Stage

#short story #short fiction #sad #sad story #sad thoughts #painful #tw depressing stuff #depression #depressing #anxiety #suicidal #suicide

[nadashead]

HEY

*cough* so i've been doing nothing for a past few months but to write, and i didn't get so much traffic on wattpad so maybe i'll share here:') hoping some people might enjoy my stories. SO YEAH MAYBE GOD WILL HEAR MY PRAYER COME ON LET ME BE A WRITER *sobs*

#short story #short fiction #sad story #sad #depressed #anxiety #trapped #suicidal #suicide

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this is the funniest thing i’ve ever seen

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Disney Goals | Wallpapers

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Exile (2020)