Defenses

My life is not my life. It's someone else's. It's not my life.
This isn't who I am. This isn't who my friends are or who my family is. These aren't situations I get into. These aren't people I have to deal with. This isn't my life.

I must be dreaming. This must be the longest, most extensive dream I've ever dreamt. Or maybe it's all a joke. It's a sick joke, but that's better than reality.

No, this isn't reality. This isn't my reality. It can't be. This is not my life.

Thankfully my mind has figured out how to put up enough defenses to actually convince me that the life I'm living is not my life, or I probably wouldn't be living at all.

There are two things keeping me at the high school I am at now. Dance and cheer, in that order.
Dance is falling apart. Half the people have left, the other half don't care. And I'm the only one that wants to put up the show we have scheduled a month from now. It's even a question if the class will continue next year because of budget cuts.
And I don't know if cheer is enough to keep me at a school where everyone either thinks I'm a slut or has turned their backs on me.

It's kind of a fantasy I have--going to a new school. Starting fresh, completely fresh. No one would know who I am or what I have been through or what my problems are, and they would never know. For one year I could be who I was so long ago. For one year, I could actually live my life.
But changing schools would be accepting defeat.

I do not accept defeat.

-Beaskie