Have you ever felt completely powerless?
Like you can't even trust your own memories—hell, not even yourself?
Maybe I did this.
Maybe they were right… maybe I really wasn't okay.
I'd been delusional this whole time.
And now?
I'm the reason all of this happened.
All I keep asking myself is: who am I, really?
Why did they lie to me? Why did they make me believe all that?
I wasn't like everyone else who just… lives, like life is something simple.
I've always told myself that life isn't fair.
But I want you to be the ones who decide that.
once I tell you my story.
A story told by someone… unknown
Introduction
I wrote this story to show you how I feel. Maybe it's fictional, but maybe someone out there has felt the same way—like they're powerless to believe anything. Should they believe what people say, or trust themselves? And if even their own mind doesn't trust them… then what are they supposed to do?
Maybe if they had listened to me back then…
Maybe if they had believed me…
None of this would have happened.
If only they had shown a little kindness, a little love… back then.
I really want to move forward after all this, but this past… it doesn't let me feel like I should.
All I want is for you to judge, to decide.
No. This can't be me.
It definitely isn't.
I feel…
I shut my eyes and suddenly I hear voices—no, not voices… a crowd.
A whole crowd screaming my name.
"Emma!! Emma!! What the hell did you do?!"
My eyes flew open in shock.
three years ago..
I woke up this morning with this weird rush of energy. Don't ask me why—I don't know myself.
Is it because today's the first day of my senior year?
I doubt it. My school is basically a live‑action drama—backstabbing, toxic people, and disgusting situations that never end.
I kept trying to convince myself: Don't freak out today. Stay calm. Look on the bright side. Forget who you're going to see.
A fresh start, right, Emma?
I hope so. But the truth?
It's just another day in my life. The only difference is the number on the calendar.
It's boring how much I think about these people.
Meanwhile? They barely remember I exist.
Anyway,since I can't run from reality—time to drag myself back into the same old routine.
I got out of bed, pretending to be full of energy, and went straight to the kitchen to make breakfast for my parents.
For some strange reason, I was almost excited for another long day at school.
I stepped into the kitchen—fine, let me entertain you a little.
You want to know about me? My name? My family?
I'm Emma. I'm seventeen.
This is my last year.
Don't tell anyone this, but… I feel like this is going to be my new beginning.
I believe that.
New year, new life.
But in the end? It just feels like another normal year.
Anyway—my dad's waiting.
My dad?
He's so serious he forgot how to be a father.
He never taught me what tenderness looks like.
Never even tried.
All he ever did was crush any tiny moment where I might've felt safe.
Don't get me wrong—I'm not going to be that teenager who whines about a strict dad.
But… I don't know.
Sometimes I don't even feel like he's my father.
Ever felt that?
Someone who's close to you in name only… but feels like a stranger?
I don't know, but I've never gotten used to it. Not once.
Especially when it comes to me coming home late, my short clothes, or the fact that I have guy friends.
He's strict in this annoyingly suffocating way—like living in a prison without bars.
All I can think about now is escaping this mess.
Maybe that's why I'm actually looking forward to school.
To run away from this miserable reality.
Let's skip ahead and keep going.