I press my forehead against the cool
surface of the mirror, as I try to forget
about the world surrounding me and
focus on my eyes only. They are a light
shade of blue, and if you look closer
you will be able to detect the small
specks of grey hidden within them.
They are the only things I truly love
about myself. Although the blue color is
faded and faint now it will turn into a
deep blue sea of broken dreams when
my eyes water. That is when they are
most beautiful - that is when I'm most
beautiful.
Someone once told me that beauty is in
the eyes of the beholder. I don't believe
that. I believe that beauty is a twisted
version of what it once used to be. I am not that beautiful. I'm plain and
boring and if I was a fruit I would be
the rotten apple in the fruit bowl that
everyone desperately avoids.
I don't use makeup - not because I
don't want to, but because I don't
know how to use it and I'm simply too
embarrassed to ask Megan for help.
My hair is a constant mess that
resembles a haystack more than
anything else. I haven't got a haircut in
Over a year, for no reason.
Plain is the first word that comes to
mind, as I take in my reflection in the
floor to ceiling mirror, in the corner
of my room. But plain is soon replaced
with ugly. That is when I turn my eyes
from the reflective surface and head
for my bed instead. I need comfort - in
any shape or form that I can get it in.
I settle on Netflix -it contains fewer
calories than the tub of ice cream that
I know my Uncle has stashed in the
freezer downstairs.
Call me childish, but I love to watch
Cinderella inspired movies. It comforts
me in my depressed state to know that
the protagonist is always going to end
up with Prince Charming and that no
matter how hopeless everything looks
in the middle the movie is always going
to have a happy ending. Real life isn't
like that. Real life is hard and cruel and
bone crushingly honest. There is almost
never a Prince Charming waiting
around the corner and if you are, after
a lifetime of searching, lucky enough
to find him it will almost always end
up sadly. Did you know that fifty-three
percent of all US marriages end in
divorce?
As the opening credits to the movie
rolls across my computer screen, I flip
my phone in my hands. Mindlessly I
press the home button on my phone
and watch as the screen comes to life.
I don't know what I was expecting; any
kind of life signs from Jason, I guess.
I haven't even realize how dependent
I've gotten to our daily chats and his
used-to-be annoying messages, until I
lock the phone again and toss it across
my bed as I let out a frustrated sigh.
This is unlike me. I don't depend on
anyone, but myself, simply because
it'll only lead to disappointments and
broken hearts. So why on earth have I
gotten so hung up on this boy and his
stupid chat messages?
It doesn't take long before I'm crawling
across the bed to retrieve my phone
again. There is still no unanswered
messages shown on the start screen,
but just to make sure that I haven't
missed any I unlock my phone and
click on the facebook icon my home
screen. It takes a while for the app to
load, but once it does it goes directly
to my conversatiorn with Jason. The
last message in our conversation has
received over three hours ago, but to
make sure that the app isn't fooling me
I reload the app twice. It's a complete
waste of time though; there's still no
new message in our conversation.
I'm frustrated beyond doubt that the
silence between Jason and I have been
dragged on for so long. I think I've
gotten too used to his constant nagging
that haunts me even in class and in
my sleep. I used to think it was rather
annoying that he never stopped, but
now that he hasn't chatted me for
a while I feel as if I've lost a part of
myself. Ever since the friend request
it has been Jason who has started all
of our conversations, but the silence
between us makes me feel so hollow
that I decide to cast off all unwritten
rules and take a chance by being the
one to start the conversation up again,
for the first time.
I closed my eyes, and messaged him asking why he hasn't replied my messages for two days, I waiting for a reply till I slept off.
It was the next day I got a call from megan, saying we should go for a house part, that everyone in school would be present there including the so called cute guy they won't tell me his name… That made me more eager to go for the part, I
quickly got up , took my shower and picked up a nice mini skir, it's my sister's though, I then wore a poker dot crop top I thought it was too revealing but I had already heard Megan car horn, I had to go downstairs I invited her in cause the house party was going to start by 1:00am and it was 12, we told my Uncle about the party he asked us to stay safe, and said we should be back early which we also agreed too. Since there was still spare time we are breakfast after that Megan put on makeup for me and asked me to change from my combat boots to heels, I really wasn't comfortable with heels but she insisted. Then it was time for us to head to the house where they were throwing the party, we both said goodbye to my dad as we entered Megan's car and drove off.
Crashing a house party had never been
on my bucket list, not that I've ever had
one. But once Megan starts begging
there is really no way anyone can tell
her no.
"Come on," Megan groans. She's
pulling me towards the enormous
house where the party is already going
strong. "They're probably all totally
wasted and wont notice you," she
tries to comfort me. I'm going into a
full anxiety attack just thinking about
facing my classmates willingly - well
almost. Megan drags me across the
street to the other side and up the path
that leads through the front lawn and
all of the way up to the front door.
The front yard is littered with empty
cups and cigarette buds. The bass
is booming through the few open
windows in the house, making the glass
in them vibrate from the sound waves
hitting it repeatedly.
We come to a halt in front of the
door. I can practically see Megan
internally debating on whether we
should knock or just walk in. If I was
the one deciding we would be turning
on our heels and running as fast as
our legs could carry us. But I can't run
and soon enough Megan has pushed
the front door open and is dragging
me inside the lion's cage. The stench
of alcohol and sweat hits me like a
hammer in the head.
We've barely stepped three feet inside
the house before someone grabs a hold
of Megan and drags her towards the
dance floor, leaving me alone in the
entryway. I keep my eyes locked on
Megan, wishing the song will be over
soon so I can reclaim my place at her
side.
As the song reaches its peak I'm
engulfed by the manly stench of sweat
and cigarette smoke when someone
locks their arm around my shoulders
and pulls me to their side.
"Welcome to paradise baby," the
guy slurs in my ear. All of my nerve
endings stand to attention at the
sound of his voice. I can feel the hair
at the nape of my neck rise as I try to
fight him off me as he puckers his lips
and leans towards my cheek. I don't
succeed before a girl, dressed in close
to nothing, comes by to highjack him to
the dance floor. I don't object.
I let my eyes wander back to the dance
floor once I'm sure the guy is gone.
I'm searching for the familiar head of
brown curls, bopping up and down in
the crowd of half-drunken teenagers
that belongs to my best friend. My
heart rate picks up as I realize that
she's not where she was a few minutes
ago. The crowd has swallowed her
whole and I'm completely alone in the
lion's cage. I stay in the living room
for a little while longer, desperately
searching the crowd for Megan, before
I give up on looking for her and try to
find a quiet corner I can hide in until
she comes to finds me.