Over the Easter, I went off to Germany to visit my Aunty and cousins. Germany has always been so beautiful and compared to London it’s just like a breath of fresh air. Every time I go it seems to have gotten better.
One point over the holiday I realised just how much I hate London. I mean, I know I’m only fourteen, nearly fifteen, and gosh teenagers don’t know what they want they’re messed up in the minds, and that’s true, but this is just overwhelming. I just got up one morning and sat on the balcony, after about five minutes of staring at the bottom and wondering what it would be like to jump the sun came up- how cliché, am I right?
That same afternoon my brother came onto the balcony with me. He can always sense when I’m depressed, I think he knows about my self harm, I don’t think he’s positive he knows it, but… he knows something, and that something is enough for siblings to understand each other. I’m also twenty percent sure he knows about this blog. Anyway, back to the story. We sat there for awhile basking in the sun, until we decided to go for a walk about. We came to the realisation that walking was way too boring and so we scoped out cousins garage, I found roller blades, he the scooter. That was it really. We just rode around and talked for an hour. Not far at all, only ever five minutes away from the house, up and down roads in and out of Aldi car parks.
You can’t do this is London, you see. Because the roads are full of terrible drivers and traffic, and if not traffic, dangerous roads, and if not that then I’m sure there’ll be a gang of teenagers patrolling it. And no sun ever gets to my window. Not that we get any sun- I mean, it’s London for God’s sake.
I just need out. Out of here. The only thing keeping me is friends and family. And probably because I’m way too young.
But one day, one day I’ll escape.