Being Cam - 1. September 21st

It was for sure the end of the world. Nothing could be worse than being 13. Only one week into it and I could already feel all that extra pressure weighing down on me. Everything was about being the “cool” kid now. Super popular, super attractive, super smart; all things I was not. I wasn’t exactly a complete train wreck though.

I had friends. Probably paid by my mom to be my friend but I had them. Emma, Isaac and Nate were the only three that could stand to be around me for more than five minutes. Pay must have been worth it. The three of us have been through a lot together over the years. All that preteen angst we shared. I always felt like I could be myself around them. Never not accepting me for all my quirks.

I tended to talk like I was years older than I was. Like, come on, what 13 year old uses the words angst and quirks in their journal? Most kids didn’t even know what they meant. Wise beyond my years is what my mom would always say.

More like nerdy beyond reason.

I guess I should maybe introduce myself? No one should ever be reading this beside me, but every good writer has to give some background on their characters. I’m Cam. Freshly 13 years old. My birthday was last week… yay me! Not.

After my birthday I decided I wanted to document my life, see where this journey would take me. I’m determined to write for one year straight, every day. At least something to remember what I am like now. That’s the idea at least. Now it’s time for the character exposition. Someday when I’m old and grey and I look through my boxes of junk and find this, I might have already forgotten these little details of my life.

I was born and raised in Buckettsburg, which is as awful as it sounds. Son of Ava Martin and No Name, the third and youngest child of the family. Jen and Marla were my twin sisters, older and both equally annoying as the other. I had hoped that the twins would have different personalities like all the movies and TV shows suggested but they were two “perfect” peas in a pod. Notice the quotes. Remember them. It’s a story for another time.

No Name left when I was 2. Something about having a third child had pushed him over the edge. I probably would have left too if I had to deal with baby JeMar. JeMar was the name I called them by the way. They were inseparable so it was easier to just call them by one name. He only signed on for one batch of kids and couldn’t handle the extra responsibility so he vanished one night while we all slept.

Mom tried to find him but never could. We didn’t need him anyways. We were better off without him. At least that’s what I told myself. Had to tell myself. Otherwise I would get upset about being abandoned. Or be upset about Mom giving up her dreams to raise us by herself. Or about us all having no father to play catch with, or do the manly things around the house, or teach me how to shave, or to stick up for his daughters when a boy came around, or…

Nothing. He didn’t exist. We didn’t need him.

Sometimes I thought I heard his voice in my head though. Every time I was stressed about something or dealing with a difficult situation and trying to talk myself right, this voice would play devil’s advocate and say all the things I didn’t want to hear. You’re too stupid. You couldn’t do that even if you tried. No one likes you. You’re ugly. That was No Name for sure. He obviously didn’t care so why would he say anything nice? All those nasty thoughts were coming directly from his head wherever he was now. Like he was some kind of telepath sending me messages. I hated him.

He’s not the point of this journal though. I am. It’s all about being Cam.

But how do I write about me, if I don’t really even know myself?