I have entered highschool with a bad attitude, seven new notebooks, skirts I hate, and a never ending stomachache.
It looks like I'm leaving with the same mood too.
I see him in the hallways. He goes to Lone Peak.
He is my nightmare and I can't wake up.
He is walking with "______" He looks at me.
Good thing my mouth is stitched together or I'd throw up.
It's May now.
And school is almost finished.
30, 29, 28, 27, 26....
And after all this time, I finally get it.
I am never getting into an Ivy League School, never going to be a part of a cathedral choir. I am never going to be a musician, dancer, or cheerleader. Never going to be beautiful or smart.
I'm never going to get married, or find a life of my own.
I am just walking about my days with no idea who I am. Just waiting for a mack truck, or cancer to come along and finish the job.
No body wants me, I don't even want me.
But it's easier not to say anything.
Shut your trap.
Sit in your assigned seat.
No one really cares what you have to say.
I push my ragged mouth against the mirror. A thousand crushed bleeding lips pushing back at me.
But yet I'm still here.
Battered and bruised, but here.
So how can I find my way? Is there a map, a chain linked to my soul?
An ax I can take to my memories or fears?