When a girl feels like she can't go on and nobody is listening to her and nobody cares will someone finally listen? Or will she just fall further into sorrow?
The day was cool and the sun was hidden behind a wide swell of storm clouds. Each student walked with a sense relief. After days and days of ungodly heat the sudden overcast of that day’s sky was an unexpected blessing. Even I, who usually walked with my head hidden in the protective space to my hood, walked with my face to the wind trying to in a child like attempt to make to wind and coolness mine forever as if I could keep it bottled up in myself to use on those oh so common sweltering days.
But when I felt the familiar feeling of eyes on me I returned to the safety of my hood once again and quickly pushed through the halls and through the blabbering masses trying to reach my first class with out being noticed.
I turned my ipod up higher and let myself be consumed in the rhythm after I had reached my seat in the very back of my morning English class. And it was working till I felt something hit me in the head. A piece of paper, I knew better than to look at the paper but I did anyway.
Just fucking leave you freak!
I angrily threw the paper back on the floor where it belonged and tried to ignore what it said but it was to late. A pair of grimy hands grabbed my hood pulling it off taking my headphones with it. A smug boy with a disgusted look shoved his face in mine and chocked me with his pungent breath when he said.
“Just in case you can’t read FREAK, GO HOME and take your emo fucking music with you!”
My face stayed empty and calm. I stared at him with unnerving eyes till he scoffed and said, “You must stupid, bitch.”
Then he returned to his seat to be cheered and praised by his friends, he even had some girl with a stupid look hanging on him now, because apparently being a bastard was an attractive thing these days.
The rest of the day went on like that, some sarcastic remark, hoves into the lockers, laughs as I go to each class. I stayed calm and collected my face blank and slightly dreamy.
I guess to the other students it must have looked as if I wasn’t even there, like what they said and did never even touched me. But that didn’t stop them, it never does. In my head the word freak swam in and out of my every thought. What they said and did stayed with me.
At the end of the day I blared my music as loud as I could as I ran home, the farther I could get away from there the better,
They're gonna clean up your looks
With all the lies in the books
To make a citizen out of you
Because they sleep with a gun
And keep an eye on you, son
So they can watch all the things you do
Because the drugs never work
They're gonna give you a smirk
'Cause they got methods of keeping you clean
They're gonna rip up your heads,
Your aspirations to shreds
Another cog in the murder machine
They said all teenagers scare the living shit out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me…..
My Chemical Romance, those guys were my heroes, I guess you could say. What they said made sense, the words they sang, what they said in interviews. It was all things you could relate to; it told you weren’t alone, no matter how alone you actually were.
Even though in the back of your head there was that voice that tries to tear you down by telling you, that you are useless and nobody notices and nobodies cares. Just the fact that someone else has felt that way and knew that feeling, makes you feel a bit better. Or in a lot of cases even saved your life.
I stepped up the cemented porch steps of my new house and through the door closing it quietly behind me. I hung my bag on the notch by the door as I had done my entire life. Then ran up to my attic bedroom before anyone noticed I was home. I silently closed the door once again and laid down on my bed and tried as hard as I could not to let the words and feeling take me over as I lay there, but it was no use. Within two minutes I was crying with my head in the pillow trying to muffle those cries of mental agony.
I finally had cried so much that I simply couldn’t cry anymore so I rose up from my tear stained pillow and walked with uncaring steps to my desk. Sitting down I read one of the many quotes that I had etched into the desk; I felt the familiar pang of jealousy, guilt, and self-hate. I reached into my pocket and played my music higher as I looked at myself in the mirror on my desk. My hair was an ugly dull brown with streaks of purple I had put in to try and make it look better (it didn’t work). My eyes, those normal hazel orbs that held every feeling that I hid every moment of the day, twisted and stabbed at my already cracked soul.
I watched as a single lonely tear rolled down my scarred and burned cheek, the cheek that made me a permanent freak.
At that very moment I just couldn’t believe in the words that I had read on my desk, ‘hey girl you’re beautiful.’
Hey this is my first story be nice! But Rate and Review!