WIDE AWAKE - - * v+n

[nayaherrera]

Different people have different places where they can just go and think. No talking, no gossiping, no answering back to pointless texts from the same irrelevant people with the same irrelevant conversations. Just think, about anything, really. Worries, regrets, insecurities, and hopefully you can squeeze in a little happy thought every once in a while. At least that was what it was like for Naya.

Now, she didn’t want to say she was an unhappy person. She wasn’t.

Am I?

No. She quickly dismissed that idea. Naya liked to list all the reason why she was, in fact, happy in her head once that question would pop into her mind. It was a methodical list; it was as if she practiced it.

I am happy because I’m popular.
I am happy because I’m a cheerleader.
I am happy because I get attention at parties.
I am happy because I’m hot.

However, all these reasons seemed to always come up short. It was not enough. Who cared if she was pretty? Who cared if she was popular? Well, that did matter… Cliques were everything at school. But in the end who cared? Nobody was going to remember what clique took you in ten years from now. Naya would never dare say that out loud. She was known for being wild, bitchy, and completely care free. Even in the toughest situations and the worst drama at school, her favorite phrase was whatever and her preferred facial expression was nonchalant. Nothing seemed to effect her, and her friends would constantly joke around about it.

“Naya’s house could be on fire and she’d just walk out and roll her eyes at the inconvenience,” her friend (who was really more of an annoying under classmen who seemed to idolize her every move) giggled.

Naya smirked along. She always did. Always impassive, always poker-faced. She did have worries. She had regrets. She had problems. Why didn’t anyone see that?

She knew why people didn’t, and she understood. It was her fault. The front that she put up was incredibly convincing, and she knew that. It had taken her years to perfect it, but at times it seemed like more of a burden than anything up. One can only keep up a pretense for so long. She would never step away from it. Not unless she was absolutely forced to, and even then she knew she’d cling on desperately. She didn’t want people to know about her past. It wasn’t all bad, but it hurt. Her family was completely dysfunctional, and although she loved her two brothers very much, it’d be nice to have actual parents, too. No one would ever know that about her, though. Not if she had anything to say about it. So really, all her crazy behavior and shameless attitude towards guys was a cover up. You do those things, and you forget, however temporary that is.

She was such a cliché, and she hated it. Back in her freshman year, she was a lot nicer, a lot more trusting, and most definitely a lot more innocent. That was when she was fourteen, though. Halfway in to her freshman, things changed, she changed, and no one could really explain why. But Naya could. She was trying out her current life style for the first time, and she didn’t really know how to handle herself or the situations she was facing, and bad things happened to a good girl. She tried not to think of those things. She was in control now, to hell with what happened to her when she was a stupid little girl.

These on going thoughts in her head could not be thought out at home. Not with her two brothers and cousins swarming around her. That’s why she took it upon herself to get into her black Volkswagen beetle and speed out the driveway. If there was anywhere she could really think and not be disturbed, it was the bookstore. It was cold, quiet, and subdued, and it was definitely unlikely for her to see any of her fellow cheerleaders there. She parked crookedly into one of the small spaces left and slammed the door to her car, locking it with the little remote on her keychain behind her. She swung the door open and she felt those familiar things; the cold air hitting her face, blowing her back slightly, and the little bell above the door chime. She felt at ease.

ATTIRE

[/color] her outfit c: CREDIT SAM !? of Confronting the Faceless. Don't remove the credit or I will find you. LYRICS brick by boring brick - paramore NOTES jess 1! <3 not my best, and i apologize. :c WORD COUNT 743 [/center][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]