What is My Name

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  • Rating:
  • Published: 30 Jul 2013
  • Updated: 30 Jul 2013
  • Status: Complete
How one life ended due to the hurt that people distribute generously.


1. Thoughts

For my good friend, Amelia. Who wrote this story, and gave me the inspiration to finish it. I can't take even half the credit.

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She sat on the park bench, watching a young boy play with a kite twenty feet away. The little boy had a smile on his face. It made the girl both happy and sad. She was happy to that there was one person in this world who had 'happy' in their feelings dictionary. It made her sad because she never had happiness in her dictionary in the first place.

It had been a while since she had felt that way, where she had a smile. She couldn't even remember what it was like. She couldn't remember the last time she smiled. She tried to smile right there on the bench without even thinking.

She pulled her cheeks back to reveal her teeth, then immediately stopped. It felt weird, those muscles hadn't been used for years. It was much easier to just not smile.

The girl immediately went back to her usual somber expression. She was that girl you would expect to be popular. She had a sort of punk rock style with a few preppy things here and there. She had dyed her hair purple several times, and it suited her well, as did the skinny jeans, leather jacket, and basket ball shoes that she loved to wear. However the people at her school felt differently.

For about ten years the girl had been a punching bag. Since the first day of school she had been picked on. It started with, you're stupid, you're ugly, you can't do anything right. She did dress differently that most. Everyone else always wore stuff that was sporty. Like a pair of colorful gym shorts, normal shirt, hair pulled back, and running shoes. The girl always was fashion forward and knew what they were wearing was not fashion forward. 

Once when she was little, maybe eight or so, she told the girls that what they were wearing wasn't fashion forward, and what she had on was. The girls just smirked and said, guess you are stupider than we thought. We set the trends. 

As she got older the insults got worse. You're fat, you're ugly, no one loves you, drop dead. She was constantly told she was too fat, she was too skinny, she had no purpose, her parents didn't love her, she was retarded. It was obvious to her that they just needed someone to hit, and even more obvious that she couldn't hit back. What she had found was that if she just shut up and soaked up the insults, she would get off better. If her head was low, and she didn't make eye contact, she would be just fine. 

She couldn't really ask for help. She didn't want to tell her parents because she would just be teased more, be called a baby, and a wimp. Nothing seemed to satisfy the hungry eating monster that fed off of sadness that was her school. It didn't matter what she tried. She had even tried to dress the same way. The first remark she got was, "Did you dig that out of the trash? No one wears pink!" She got that shirt cause she distinctly remembered that the same girl who told her that had that exact same shirt. It was hard to keep from crying. She just skipped the day and went home. 

The world seemed to spinning with her right in the middle now, sitting on the park bench. She felt as though she might throw up. It was hard to keep from fainting.

The boy’s grandfather got up and retrieved the little boy. He wrapped up the kite and walked through the park. It made the girl extremly sad. This was a time that she was dreading. Then she realized, she too, had to leave. She pulled up the energy to pull her fat ass out of the bench and start walking home.


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