Bitter | Bill Kaulitz

1

Being tall wasn't always a good thing. Especially when you're a girl, sounds rude but I'm 5'10 and I'm in college. All throughout my entire childhood hood I grew extremely fast, always being the girl that was taller than everyone. Also making me the one of the first girls to hit puberty. Yikes.

My mom and older brother live at an apartment together in downtown Boston, we were never wealthy or anything like that but I was convinced that one day I'd be able to financially support my mom and gift her a house.

It's one of my only motivations on why I did so well in school. Regardless of how much I got bullied for being tall or just not fitting to the slutty high school girl standards, my mom was my biggest motivation. She tried her best for me and my brother, working two jobs and she never had to help me pay for college because I got in a on a scholarship.

My brother currently is going to college on an athletic scholarship for football. Isn't that ironic? My older brother the popular "hot" one yet his younger sister gets bullied, I'm two years younger than he is so when we went to school together he tried his best to make sure I wasn't getting bullied. But sometimes it was hard because he wasn't always there.

I go to college for an art degree, art has always been a thing I was decent at and my mom always supported me. Even though most of the time artists either make it big or nothing, and I was always willing to take that chance if it meant I could help her.

I don't know anything about my dad, my brother and mom know stuff but they never tell me what happened, he could be dead or just plain left us and I wouldn't even know.

I was sketching into my notepad when I was supposed to be doing this assignment on what art and religion have in common, and there's not a lot of examples for me to go by.

"Rose!" My mom yells for me from the hallway.

My mom named me Rose because she said it was her favorite flower.

"Yeah?" I peek my head out of my shared bedroom with my brother, yelling down the hallway.

Our apartment was a two bedroom and one bathroom place, very small but it fit our family so that's all that ever mattered to me.

"Could you come cook the rest of this mac n cheese so I could run downtown to get some milk? We ran out and Clark wanted some..." My mom yells again, and I hear her open the door.

Clark is my older brother.

I run down the hallway and give my mom five dollars when I reach her at the door. I knew my mom didn't have the extra money for milk, but I never say no to giving her extra money especially since I have my own job, at Ice cream place downtown.

———

"Hi! Welcome to Red Apple what can I get for ya?" I say with a fake smile on my face as I talk to this elderly women.

This job kills me sometimes, I think people forget that I can spit in there ice cream at any moment and they wouldn't even notice.

I scoop the vanilla ice cream into the cone and I hand it to the women telling her to have a nice day. Sometimes I don't think I get paid enough to deal with these shitty people.

I don't stay mad for long because I don't hold grudges. There's no point, I chose to just be happy.

The ice cream place I work at has us wear this stripped pink and blue shirt with an embarrassing hat that looks like melted ice cream on your head.

Today wasn't busy, it was only ever busy on the weekends. On my free time or breaks I get ahead of my school work at college or I finished up school work I hadn't got to just in case I need to pull extra hours at work to help my mom out.