J
Jxliee
Guest
I sit in the classroom, the back of my head aching, a pain not so strong, but still distracting. My eyes are barely opened, revealing tried blue eyes, from poor quality sleep. I doodle on my hand, adding the word ‘waterloo’ for no reason. I await to run home, from this living hell. I wish to run wild, to adventure, to write books and music, not this boring world, where the only life are other girls, loads and loads of girls. Way too many girls. We sit, not exercising, and stare at an adult teaching us things, sometimes, we think, ‘hey we’ll never do this in the future’ and other times, we just sit and listen, nothing to complain. I just want to go to sleep.
The day nears an end, as I watch the clock slowly tick to 3:35pm. My heart begging at this point, to rest. Our teacher allows us to clear up, and as I finish the belle goes on the intercom. I run outside, waving to a girl in my class as I leave, and wait at the bus stop.
A group of girls in my base class come towards me, my eyes practically closed. They begin talking, words going through my head. The bus pulls up and I’m shoved into a crowd of girls who are desperately needing to get on the bus. Which at this point, I wonder why bother? When they can to their destinations quicker by walking, unlike some people who live in areas you can’t walk to. People don’t even bother look anymore.
Another bus pulls up behind the first one, which is empty, I run to that, trying to get out of a huddle of violent, desperate girls and get on the second bus. I sit with three girls, and on one of our stops, a friend from my old school hops on. We acknowledge each other’s existence, but quickly go back to new groups.
I rather be in his group, I can’t deal with these people inside. Constantly talking. Talking and talking, people I barely know, judging people I barely know, and they barely know.
First thing asked when my friend comes on is ‘is that your boyfriend’. I stare at the girls, and resist the urge to move now, and slap them as I do that. I shake my head and shut the conversation down.
I look up at my friend and sigh. I miss the old days.
I finally get home, tired from a literal hill walk from the bus stop. I wonder where my family are when I notice no car in the driveway, and no car by the house.
I enter and shut down the alarm and sit down to eat. I scroll through my phone and feel absorbed into another place, a different reality, where I’ve thought for so long, was better. Of course, that is not true. It just makes me think, that in this screen, my problems aren’t real. All of the accidents and mistakes aren’t real. I know that now, but I usually feel better anyway. Well used to.
I answered my snapchats and went onto a little app, I reside in. I scroll throughout the app, looking for a reply on a message. *Nothing*. I sit and scroll through other sections, I want to talk to someone, but I feel I’ll disturb them, but I need them.
I let them be, making myself struggle and then I get a Snapchat from my ‘friend’. She sends a picture of something I did, on accident. I’m given out to and she assumes I sent it to people, which I didn’t, it was an accident, and I didn’t even realise I did it. I’m given out to, and apparently my feelings don’t exist in her eyes. Suddenly I’m getting a message somewhere else, her friend accusing me of being ‘mean’ not caring about someone else’s feelings. Fun.
At this point I’m angry. I felt sick, of these people. But apparently I have no actual feelings. I’m a piece of paper, flat, and emotionless.
I’m the little paper girl.
The day nears an end, as I watch the clock slowly tick to 3:35pm. My heart begging at this point, to rest. Our teacher allows us to clear up, and as I finish the belle goes on the intercom. I run outside, waving to a girl in my class as I leave, and wait at the bus stop.
A group of girls in my base class come towards me, my eyes practically closed. They begin talking, words going through my head. The bus pulls up and I’m shoved into a crowd of girls who are desperately needing to get on the bus. Which at this point, I wonder why bother? When they can to their destinations quicker by walking, unlike some people who live in areas you can’t walk to. People don’t even bother look anymore.
Another bus pulls up behind the first one, which is empty, I run to that, trying to get out of a huddle of violent, desperate girls and get on the second bus. I sit with three girls, and on one of our stops, a friend from my old school hops on. We acknowledge each other’s existence, but quickly go back to new groups.
I rather be in his group, I can’t deal with these people inside. Constantly talking. Talking and talking, people I barely know, judging people I barely know, and they barely know.
First thing asked when my friend comes on is ‘is that your boyfriend’. I stare at the girls, and resist the urge to move now, and slap them as I do that. I shake my head and shut the conversation down.
I look up at my friend and sigh. I miss the old days.
I finally get home, tired from a literal hill walk from the bus stop. I wonder where my family are when I notice no car in the driveway, and no car by the house.
I enter and shut down the alarm and sit down to eat. I scroll through my phone and feel absorbed into another place, a different reality, where I’ve thought for so long, was better. Of course, that is not true. It just makes me think, that in this screen, my problems aren’t real. All of the accidents and mistakes aren’t real. I know that now, but I usually feel better anyway. Well used to.
I answered my snapchats and went onto a little app, I reside in. I scroll throughout the app, looking for a reply on a message. *Nothing*. I sit and scroll through other sections, I want to talk to someone, but I feel I’ll disturb them, but I need them.
I let them be, making myself struggle and then I get a Snapchat from my ‘friend’. She sends a picture of something I did, on accident. I’m given out to and she assumes I sent it to people, which I didn’t, it was an accident, and I didn’t even realise I did it. I’m given out to, and apparently my feelings don’t exist in her eyes. Suddenly I’m getting a message somewhere else, her friend accusing me of being ‘mean’ not caring about someone else’s feelings. Fun.
At this point I’m angry. I felt sick, of these people. But apparently I have no actual feelings. I’m a piece of paper, flat, and emotionless.
I’m the little paper girl.
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