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WARNING: This type of story can be taken as NOT YOUR TYPE. It's not my fault if you don't like it, but there's an easy solution for this problem: DON'T read it. Simple as that.

The Serene Life

Chapter 1: The Longest Introduction That Doesn't Tell You Squat About Me (Possibly The Longest Chapter Title, too)

My name is Serene...yes, Serene. I suppose I am officially a state of emotion. It's not Serenity or even Serena. I don't see how my mother could have been thinking of "Serene" while giving birth. There is absolutely nothing "serene" about it. Not that I would know.

Most girls eat tons and tons of sweets when they're depressed. I on the other hand can't stomach those usually delicious snacks. So here I am, staring at my birthday cake, feeling more sick than you would feel hanging by ur toes over a firey pit. Okay, so that's a bit exagerated and you would be more scared than sick. Well like I was saying, staring at my birthday cake, holding the knife. Don't ask me why I have it, I'm surprised they trust me with such a weapon. "They" being my parents. Or at least, one of them is, my mother, my "father" on the other hand, is not, and never will be his entire life. Which, by the way, is an incredibly wasted life if you ask me- but I'm getting off topic. Like I was saying, staring at my birthday cake, holding the kife, about ready to cut. Then suddenly WHAMMO! Face first into the frosting. Not my idea of a good time. Who did it you ask? My so called father who really isn't my father at all. He's Brittney's, my so called sister, who is really an alien cheerleader from the planet Pep-rally. I'm stunned she doesn't have her weapons with her, I mean, her pom-poms. I swear, with the way she thrusts them about, you'd think she was out to get you. Notice that her name is Brittney. It's such a -well- a name, whereas Serene is a state of being. It's calm, and right now, I'm anything but. Right now, I want to walk over and stomp on my "father's" foot, smash the rest of my cake in his face, and -wow...extremely off topic- you'll have to excuse my imagination.

Well, that really isn't imporant. This has just been to amuse you and possibly weird you out. If that is true, why are you still reading this, I wonder? Alright now, let's rewind a bit. Back to the first two sentences of the previous paragraph. Why am I depressed, you might ask? Well it all started way back when I was, oh, say six-ish. My mother decided to get -dare I say it- remarried -this is where you gasp in utter disgust ok so normally you would't.- I am sixteen right now, there's something to take note on, so this happened almost ten years ago. -oh so now you gasp- Well all this wouldn't be so horrible if my mother didn't get remarried to my current "father" who, by the way, is more like the devil's cousin. I'd say something closer to the devil but that would imply he's intelligent -which he's not-. No, he'd rather watch T.V. and drink beer all day. Joy for me. It's not that he hurts me in any way, it's just that it smells so bad and he gets even more stupid than usual. This is also the reason for Brittney. Yes, your eyes are working just fine -you read that correctly. Our dumb, busty, cheerleader Brittney, who waves her pom-poms like a maniac ready to take your eyes out, was born because my "father" got my mother pregnant while drunk. Woo-hoo. That's a bit of sarcasm there for ya.

All in all, he, the devil's drunken cousin, has ruined my life. Unfortunately, he always will, up till the day he dies. Which, if I'm not controlled, might just be sooner than he thinks.

Well, happy birthday me.