Everything I'm Not

I used to think that everything in life was simple '"was basic. I used to think things were as they seemed. I used to the think that all the corruption in the world was only an element of the movies. I used to think I had to be perfect, and rule-following to get anywhere in life. I used to think a lot of things, and then I met a boy.

His name was William, and while his name would suggest he was some sort of prince, believe me when I say, he wasn't. He wasn't even anything close to a duke. He wasn't knighted, and he knew no code of chivalry. He was what my mom would consider her worst nightmare.

William sported a nice golden layered shag, with a gaunt, yet skateboarder-esque body. He was a complete stoner, and yet I thought he was just dreamy. So when he asked me to go to BeeBee's, our local burger joint, I was all game. Now rebellious as I was in my teenage years, I had never done drugs, or broken down to the common pressures one might face at such a time. I never had sex and I had barely even kissed a boy. The only reason I could coin myself as "rebellious" was because my parents were strict practicing Lutherans, and I was an atheist who adored nothing more than a good Lady GaGa beat.

We were sitting in biology when Will asked me '"well told me. He just said "Hey, you're going to BeeBee's with me tomorrow night, right?" as if we had planned it a long time ago. But of course I complied, an opportunity with the biggest stud in town I could never have turned down.

It was at BeeBee's that we had our first date, and several other dates after that. Though, I don't know if you could call them dates; I always paid. He said he was saving his money to open up his own hardware shop when he got out of school. I knew it was really for drugs of course, but it didn't bother me that he lied. He was mysterious, laid back, and so antiethical. He was everything I wished I could be with his aloofness.

Our time together went from once a week, to every day after school when he finished getting high. Then it became every day after school while he was getting high. It didn't bother me; I wasn't partaking. It was interesting to watch him transform '"like an experiment. Pretty soon though, I became part of the experiment and after being together six months, I was hitting it up every day too. It went school, blazing, then home, the vicious cycle repeating itself over and over. Everyday I'd come home and my mother would tell me I smelt funny, and everyday I'd tell my mom it was the incense that Will's mom always burned.

You might say it was the drugs that got to me, the drugs that made me write this story, but it wasn't.

Will and I were never in love, we didn't even pretend to be. We were just two people who loved getting high, and listening to a good beat together. After all, isn't it the one person you say you "love" that you actually just get along with well enough to want to be with them all the time? Anyway, that was Will for me, and I for him. We were two people who got along.

Our 'getting along' became the real deal after seven months of BeeBee's, and over a month of getting high together. In the first few months of dating, the routine stayed the same '"school, drugs, sleep. Then the common teenage hormones kicked in. The routine soon changed to school, drugs, sex, sleep.

This still isn't the part where I learned about the world. No, that didn't happen even when I woke up one morning, sobered from a two days absence of drugs and I realized I hadn't had my period for five months. Five months. Ask me how it took me five months to realize I didn't have a period at any point, to this day, I couldn't tell you. I mean, other than drugs warping my brain constantly, of course. You know what comes next. I popped a stick underneath my pee drip, waited five minutes to see a plus sign, and then tried the test all over again to confirm what I was seeing. Clear as daylight, I was pregnant.

This is the point in time when Will left me. Apparently, I was only fun to be with if I was high, having sex, or not pregnant. But I was pregnant. You might say now she must've realized how much she'd screwed up, but no. No, not now either. I was most concerned with how to get my fix of marijuana. William had always handled that stuff. He was good with the dealers, kept me out of the dark side of things. I never paid for it. I had no idea how much the stuff even cost. So for two weeks, I went through a sort of withdrawal. It wasn't horrible, I mean, I hadn't been experimenting with the stuff for years, but only about eight months. It still did enough to leave me sick feeling though, or maybe it was the kid inside me, who could really be sure?

When I was about six months along, I brought my little baby bump and myself down to the clinic to finally start to handle the baby. It was coming out eventually, I figured, so why not get some of the important stuff out of the way? A nurse named Rose kindly took me back to a room, had me change into a skimpy little gown that my ass hanged out of, and told me to sit in the chair. They took some tests, put some cold jelly on my stomach, and a stern-faced doctor came into the room.

"Your baby seems perfectly healthy."

This is the point in which I woke up to the world. I saw things clear as daylight. What did I expect? I wondered. Did I think my baby would be some screwed up baby, or did I think it would die or what? I wasn't sure what I expected, but I had broken every rule in the book and my baby was still healthy.

Let me tell you, having a baby at a young age is hard. The stares, the gossip, and the rumors all suck, but raising a baby sucks even more. You love them, no doubt, and you laugh at the little cute things they do, but it's not easy. There are those nights that you never sleep because your little girl can't seem to either. There are those days when your little girl is teething and the pain makes her ball like there's no tomorrow. I mean it's hard. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do. And one day you think you're starting to get some calm in the storm, and bam, there's a hurricane.

My baby girl is named Harper, and she is three years old. Life with her still isn't easy, but together, we make it through. Her daddy is probably getting high right now, but that's okay. He wasn't worth much anyway. The one's that seem like princes never are. Harper's a curious little girl, she's always asking the what's, who's, where's, and why's. She refuses to let me put clothes on her; she's a big girl now. She loves to dance, and she's a professional at coloring. Tell her she's pretty, and she'll just say "I know." That's my little girl. I don't know if I'm raising her right, but it sure beats being a pot head.

Life isn't perfect, and no one ever said it would be easy. You grow up in a fairytale, and you expect the rest of your life to be a fairytale. Then when it isn't, you're shocked; you don't know what to do. I used to have a lot of my own ideas about the world. I used to be na¯ve then. Then I found out the world was hard: boys will break your heart, the things you said would never happen will happen, and the boundaries you said you'd never step over, you'll step over 'em. It doesn't matter what you do, it's how you make it through what you do. I screwed up, but something beautiful came out of it. I'm making it through.