The last day I spent in Glossop was the last day of term, so everybody was allowed to mess around and just have fun. It was good like this. I made sure that I bought lots of disposable cameras; I didn’t want to risk forgetting this day. At the end of the school day I went home and took one last look at the house where I had grown up. Memory’s kept flooding back to me, silly things like when we bought our first computer, or when I helped my mum paint out living room. My favourite room in the house was of course my bedroom. I decorated it myself; the carpet was soft purple, the same colour as my furniture and curtains and the walls were minty green. I made sure I had put all of my photos around the walls, and I signed the corner of the room, to leave my mark. Somehow, on that last day, the room looked cold an empty; the walls were sickly and the carpet was stiff as I walked across to the window. Nothing felt the same in that house, it was lifeless.
As I drove away I looked at the town for the last time. The sun was out and it gleamed down onto the town centre. I had spent many days sitting there just watching the world go by. All of the bad things I’d seen before seemed to disappear. The factory’s sunk into the background, and the pollution seemed to blow away in the wind. I guess when you no you’re never coming back; you only see the good things.
When I arrived in Frome it was dark, and the streets were empty. I had been traveling for 5 hours, and I started to wonder if it would look amazing here. The end result was disappointment. I didn’t think anywhere except Glossop, could seem like home. We got to the house, and I did like it. My dad put a blanket down and bought us some Chinese, and his new boss had given us a bottle of champagne. However, it didn’t feel right; it was like we were celebrating leaving everything behind.
I don’t want to go through all of that again.
My parents are refusing to talk about it all. They think I am mentally unstable or something along those lines. It feels patronizing when my parents don’t think about me as another human being. They think I am just their daughter, and I don’t need to know things.
