Ok I know I wrote another post with the same title but I'm not sure people will continue to read the old one. I've updated the first chapter after reading the comments others left. Please leave comments/feedback after reading on The Choice Feedback. That would be a great help. I will try to get chapter 2 up soon. I won't be adding the entire story but I hope you all enjoy for what it's worth. Prologue We all say we should live our lives to the fullest, but what does the mean? “Live life to the fullest.” People always say you have to make it count, because you only have one chance to get everything right. What I don’t understand though is why people always stand in the way of another who are really trying to making it count. People stand in another’s way bullying them, ridiculing them, telling them their faults. Why do people say to be accepting of people, yet most people don’t do it themselves. Every day people are being bullied for what they do with their lives. Sometimes it’s because of how they look, talk, act, maybe it’s because they are gay, or whatever the reason may be. I think people are blind. They all try to hide in bubbles away from the world. Some don’t realize how much their actions hurt people. Others don’t realize how much they matter. We all become blinded by what’s truth and what we think is truth, and our downfall is we never really can tell the difference between them. I wish we could tell the difference because it would make the difference between a bad day and a good one. I’m also tired of hearing people say “we blame society, yet we are society.” I don’t deny that this statement is true, but there are tons of things wrong with it too. For example from a young age all of us are introduced to “take this pill and lose ten pounds,” or “use this cream and look ten years younger” and there is something kinda sick about putting these ideas into kids’ heads. The media teaches us that we don’t deserve to be loved unless we look and act a certain way, and you know what? That’s so far from the truth. We are supposed to love ourselves and all the little things that make us who we are, and if someone doesn’t accept all of your little things then they aren’t the one. We all need to stop thinking that having a positive thought about ourselves is a bad thing. Oh yeah, before I forget to mention this too. People need to stop glamorizing self harm, eating disorders, and suicide. Those are serious mental issues and they are by no means meant to be taken as a joke. Maybe instead of making fun of them and people who have them, we should take a step back and realize we are all so far from perfect. Just once I’d like to see someone say they are happy without having someone try to one up them. Maybe if we were all just a bit nicer we’d see less people with slashes on their arms and notes saying “sorry I wasn’t good enough.” Thing is for many it’s too late… I just wish people would wake up from their trance of thinking you have to be a perfect image of society to fit in and be happy. I wish people could go out into the world saying “Hello world! This is me and I don’t care what you think of me!” or something around those lines. I just wish that people knew that they were and are beautiful and that they matter. I just wish I would have realized this myself, because now that I look back. I can never get my life back. I can never fix it. I’m too far down one path to go back and change it. I’m so far down the wrong path that even if I tried to turn it all around I wouldn’t be able to. I wish I would’ve known.
Chapter 1 Haley Wednesday April 17th, 2014 I woke with a start as I bolted straight up from my bed. My breath was heavy, and I was close to hyperventilating. It’s the fifth night in a row I’ve had this nightmare and it’s always the same, except every night I add more onto the story. The first night it was just a lonely girl in a bright sunny field. Now it’s covered in darkness and the girl is lost. She doesn’t know what to do or where to go. She is terrified, because she chose the wrong path. I look around my room. Darkness. Everywhere. I look at my clock; it’s time illuminating my room. 3:38 AM. It’s too early to be conscious. I slowly lie back down and stare at the ceiling. I suddenly think of Mairead, and I get this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s like a part of me died inside. I don’t know why. I grab for my cell phone on the table next to my bed. I slide my finger across the screen. I type in my password and open up Messages. I find Mairead’s messages. I text: Hey. I know it’s late and I doubt you’re up, but I need to make sure your ok. I know today wasn’t the best day in the world. Just please don’t do something stupid. I push send then put my phone back onto the nightstand then drift off to sleep. At 6 AM my alarm blares. It’s too early to get up. I don’t understand why school makes us get up at a ridiculous time just so we can sit and listen to lectures all day. I also don’t understand why America keeps kids in the same school even though half of them don’t care. I honestly think half my grade will end up as high school drop outs. None of them care its horrible and a waste of everyone’s time. I go downstairs about fifteen minutes later. My mom already is downstairs with breakfast on the breakfast bar. Scrambled eggs…again. My mom is sitting at the bar drinking orange juice. She does this every day. “Good morning Sweetie. Did you sleep well?” my mother asked. “I suppose. It’s just sleep, so what does it matter?” I questioned. I ate breakfast fairly quickly. Normally I wouldn’t worry about rushing, but apparently whatever my brother Dave is doing is more important that doing to school today. Whatever, I’ll still get to see all my friends. At 6:36 AM I walked down the street to my bus stop. It’s really warm outside. The breeze is slight and soothing. There are also some birds chirping after their travel back from the south. I’ve missed the birds. I haven’t missed their presents that you see on cars and occasionally heads, but they are truly wonderful creatures. They aren’t proud like a lion, nor are they as loyal as a dog, but they have true beauty to them. The bus picks me up a few minutes later. It’s quiet on the bus, like it normally is every day. It may be light out, but it’s still zombie time for us high-schoolers. We stop at Mairead’s bus stop and she isn’t there. I feel a little uneasy, but I just figured she got a ride from Lindsey. If that’s the case at least her older sibling was nice enough to drive her unlike Dave today. When I get to school my uneasy feeling started to grow. It’s like my stomach was trying to tell me a message. I wish there was a stomach to brain dictionary because I’m not hungry anymore and I’m not nervous, frankly because there aren’t any major tests. I walked to the band room and switched out my stuff. Normally I’d be like everyone else and use their assigned locker with that annoying, bothersome lock. However I like the quickness of sliding books and binders in and out of a cubby is much more efficient. I grab my Chemistry binder and the other binders I need for the morning, and then head up to the third floor. I enter my Chem. class and sit down in the usually seat in the back row next to Katie. Mairead’s seat is on the other side of mine, but it’s still empty. She is probably running late. Mr. Marshal walks into the classroom. He is carrying his bag and computer, like he does every morning. “Now he will leave the classroom for five minutes and return with coffee.” whispered Katie. As soon as she said that he left the room. He does this every morning. I wonder why. Out History teacher always says ‘Grownups are set in their ways. You probably won’t be able to change them.’ I guess Mr. Marshal’s is getting coffee every morning. Mr. Marshal comes back five minutes later, coffee in hand as expected. He then sits down at his desk and signs into his computer. I look around at everyone. Everyone is chatting away. The football jocks in one section of the room probably talking about how many cheerleaders they slept with. Probably also how they can improve next season and what not. They feel all high and mighty on their throne of fame. Then there are the cheerleaders talking about how many boys they’ve slept with and how they will strike on the next poor unfortunate soul. Then there are the band members. They are probably the most diverse of the social groups, and probably one of the nicest. Finally there are the underdogs, full of other groups of people, like the techies, nerds and so on. Anyways after all the usual talking the announcements come on. Except today they didn’t. Mr. Marshal stood up when the bell for first period rung. He started class. A few minutes into class I noticed his eyes were blood shot. It looks like he had been crying. I wasn’t sure because I didn’t see him crying, but then again I was oblivious because I was talking to Katie. It was somewhere in second period when the speakers came on. Since Chem. Is double blocked we were still in Chemistry. Before anyone spoke I looked over to where Mairead is supposed to be. Perhaps she is sick. Just as I finished my thought Mr. Welsh our principal started to speak. “Attention students and staff. Today is a day we must be strong. We must unite and stand as one. Today we mourn the loss of a bright young lady. She was a friend to many, and would go out of her way to help anyone. Now I know none of you have heard about this, so it is my job to inform you. This morning at 3:38 AM sophomore Mairead Weaver committed suicide.” Mr. Walsh paused. He gave none of s time to think, and let this sink in. He quickly continued to talk. “I know what you are thinking: why? Why did she do this? Why did she commit suicide? This question is as powerful as the two words “what if…” What if I was nicer to her? What if I offered her more help? What if… What if… What if… It’s truly two words that are completely daunting. What’s even more daunting though is that “why” is only one word yet in this situation far more powerful. We will all be thinking “why, what if…, if only, what would have happened” for a very long time. It’s only natural, though I want you all to keep this in mind. What did we all do to make her believe she had no other way out? What did we do? Why were we so blind? Why didn’t we notice? Why did we keep persisting, even though we knew we shouldn’t? Why don’t we realize how much influence we have on a person until it’s too late? I also what you to remember you are important and you do matter and don’t let anyone say otherwise because they are wrong.” Mr. Welsh finished and it was silent in our Chem. Room as I’m sure in every other class. Everyone looked shocked. Some people started to cry. Katie was among them. The jocks blamed themselves, because they abused her. They bullied her. The cheerleaders started to cry. They blamed themselves for all the mean things they said to Mairead. Our friends blamed themselves for not knowing. Me? I couldn’t cry. I wanted to, but no tears came. I wanted to scream and shout, but nothing came out of my mouth. Nothing. I sat up from my desk and walked outside the class room. I was alone in the empty hallway. I slumped up against the lockers and bent my head onto my knees. So many emotions whirled around my head. I heard noises like no tomorrow. The hallway was dead silent, yet my mind made it seem like I was in a rock concert, full of drum cadences and guitar riffs. I still wanted to scream and cry. Nothing. Why? Was all I could think of. Why did she do this? Why didn’t I do more? I knew this would change me… forever, but I didn’t want to think of the future. If I thought of the future I’d only see one without Mairead in it. The present however wasn’t much nicer. If I stayed in the present… I’d be stuck in this living hell… reliving the moment of me finding out my best friend committed suicide. If only there was a way to go back into the past. The past was the best place for me now. In the past I don’t know Mairead committed suicide. In the past Mairead is still alive and happy. The past is the only place I will truly ever be happy.
Break up your writing into paragraphs, otherwise it becomes a wall of text that no one wants to read. A helpful rule of thumb is to make a new paragraph every time someone speaks.