Dandelions [coming soon]

❁Hesitant❁

Song: How to Save a Life - The Fray

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At school there are labels. Said labels are derived from what defines you. Your connection to something of some sort. When I thought of hockey, the legendary Wayne Gretzky came to mind. But when you pondered over the name Mary-Jane Alicéa, you'd either a) had nothing come to mind, or b) ask who she was.

I don't have a quirk that is gossip worthy in the hallways of my high school. Good or bad, I'm thankful for it. Better be completely off the radar rather than expose every inch of my self to the world.

School to me, was there for its original purpose: education. I wanted out of this tiny, poverty claimed town.

No one knew me personally and I had no close friends by the end of last year. I'm no anti-socialite because I don't consider what I put myself through to fall under the category of complete isolation. At the same time, I was in no rush to strike up a conversation with locker mates. Pushing people away was a sacrifice I was willing to make to crawl past the finish line. This way I had a lack of judgement, rumors and sensitivity issues to fuss over. Senior year was to be a lonely one.

A few weeks in and I was on the verge of passing out in class. Barely keeping my eyes open to say the least. Sleep wasn't a constant that was on my mind, as that's how it is with many other teenagers. It was the same situation, but under different circumstances.

Saturdays - or the weekends in general - cut me the tiniest bit of slack.

Mom sent me grocery shopping with change clinking in the pocket of my worn, maroon circle skirt. Outerwear expressed the family status. My mother chided me with this line every time I was about to walk out the door in my beloved sweatpants and a faded t-shirt.

We were dwindling on the edge of getting by. One things for sure when it came to priorities, my mother took the opinions of others into play very seriously.

Against societies wishes when they say to not be bothered by the thoughts of others. Nonetheless people still act precariously and you can never escape being picked apart and observed like lab rats.

Our monthly earnings were divvied up for food, clothing and other essentials. I'm dead serious when I say that any extra tips brought in were all conveniently tipped into the clothing jar.

Hunting around the racks of clothing at our local Goodwill was just as good as shopping in the high end stores at big, decked out malls to me. It was the same experience of talking with mum while dad went searching for a place to sit while the women of the family shopped their days away. We placed items up against our bodies, modeling the best we could, laughing hysterically when a shirt or a pair of pants got the unexpected thumbs down. Sure the smell didn't announce premium selection but I had accustomed myself with the vintage, recycled scent.

On the plus side, my private school provided uniforms. A blazer, dress shirt and a pleated skirt. I couldn't be suspected to have been attending this pristine institute with financial aid when I looked like every other girl there. Only on Fridays, which the school allowed as a uniform free day, did I have to be wary about what I wore.

Ups and downs arose when it came to our family lifestyle, but we just had to trek through it day by day. One step at a time.

I couldn't deny though that late autumn was indulgent when you had enough money to keep up with every single heating bill.

Wind hit my skin through the holes of my knitted, pumpkin colored sweater, sending goosebumps up my arms. Loose strands of chest length, coffee brown hair whipped past my vision. Mindlessly I fell into step of avoiding the cracks and crevices of the cobblestone sidewalk. I can't help but stare down at my no longer white oxfords to avoid prying eyes. The woolly material of my grey tights did little to protect my legs. Today I felt the urge to look mismatched. Not far off from an everyday thought. Sometimes you can't afford to look put together.