Welcome to the Melancholy Confessions of Melody Thomas….. that would be me. The reason my confessions are melancholy is because my life can’t get any melancholy. They’re confessions because I must confess that my life sucks….I can’t confess anymore than that. But then again, you wonder what makes my life suck? Well, of course that’s why I’m here to take you through every moment of how my melancholy life came to suck in these easy and simple teenage confessions.

            I am told that I am very blunt and at times emotionless and cold….and that with a face like mine I could easily rule the school. Sorry not interested. Unfortunately, I have a low tolerance for any type of tyranny. Truth is I’m no tyrant……I’m just a girl with a pretty face and a straight forward attitude to go with it……not to mention having the tendency to be as blunt as possible. People think I‘m a tyrant, but then again people have the tendency to judge other people without getting to know them first. That’s basically how my life’s been ever since my mother decided to bring me into the world. Too bad I had to be a complete let down for her. Unlike my perfect older sister who happen to be the captain of the Junior Varsity cheerleading squad…..great she make mom and other people happy. Then there’s the twin of the perfect older sister, the perfect older brother. He’s perfect too…..considering the fact that he also makes mom and other people happy by scoring goals, or baskets, or homeruns (so I do that as well and people aren’t even remotely happy)…….or maybe it’s just because he is the twin of the perfect sister. Then there’s my younger sister……..she may only be three ½, but the fact of her existence makes mom and other people happy. Then there’s me….just me….little ole’ me. Melody……the problem child. The troublesome one, with anger management issues. The quiet one, who has to go the psychiatrist because, they say ever since my father died I have been having trouble “expressing myself”. So I didn’t cry at the guy’s funeral….big whoop. He was too busy for us, his children, then he divorces my mother three months before he dies…….now it’s been three months since his death and now everyone thinks I’m having issues. I DON’T have issues. Me, not crying at his funeral doesn’t mean I have issues (and it doesn’t mean I bottle up my feelings either). Mom didn’t cry at his funeral…..well she sort of sniffled…..but she wasn’t bawling her eyes out like most wives do…..ok she was his ex-wife then but still, they had four children together. At least shed a few tears maybe, or smudge your mascara for him a little bit.

            For future reference, I’m not a psycho. I’m not a jock (well I do play soccer and basketball, but my world doesn’t revolve around that…..that’s my brother’s job). I’m not a popular cheerleader…I’m not popular….period. I’m not a geek, but I am smart. I’m no plain, but I’m not extravagant. I’m a 5’9 PUNK ROCK, freshman with a melancholy life and a hysterically insane family along with some new problems ahead of me…….this is my LIFE.