Rose (Short Story)

Chapter 1

"Attempting suicide does not implicate a sense of seeking attention. It is a matter of things that you obeyed cause of those lingering suppression of hurtful feelings. Attention seeking is another story that acts likeam childish remedy for something like a personality disorder" - I defended.
I mean come on- debate is going personal already. I know their goal is to heat my temp up, but this time I won't let this pass.

"So why do they do such? We literaly know that when someone had supressed feelings, they do look for a friend..." she rolled her eyes upon continuing.
"Okay- let me specify. YOU! Don't have someone with. You don't have a friend. So instead of acting childish and all, you do take attention through lacerations, scars, rope marks. I don't get you!!" She scolded

"Me neither. I don't get myself. It's because you guys don't get me at all. Forget about this debate. I'm leaving. Anyhow, the table between us will never ever turn or flip to make a change on who truly win" I snatched my bag from my desk and dashed out the room, bumping shoulders with her. I knew she was mouthing something, but who the hell cares.
Definitely, it seemed like my back was a voice mail box. I hope next time they woul tell me directly.

Yes, my day is misunderstood. Just look at myself. I had a vey bad awful long hair withlong strands of bangs almost covering my entire sight. I always wear weird black sabrina dress that would highly match up with my black skinny jeans. Plus the pair of converse that would basically show people how 'EMO' I am. I had lots of scars in my body. I had montrosity- like rope mark on my neck. My ears are pierced with silver metals. I had a very gruesome style. That's why everyone thinks I had a very bad personality disorder nder cluster C but for me its B.

The debate maybe right but I don't feel like its for humanity. Se, Im seeking for attention but generally, I want a helping hand to go with me. I am indeed not normal in finding myself. I respectfully adore how people judge me right despite of getting them wrong on the contrary. Okay, enough with the drama. That will make me ponder again to leave scars on my body. I flame on black. I die for dark. I squel for horror. I fathom on hard rock. I love black. I live for insanity. Doll the crap.

Meanwhile, as I was surveying people in this school park, someone not so famous sat beside me. He was clean. I mean- he has this outstanding pheromone in him that would basically want every fluffy heart shreik in joy. His style is not my type. Showing such good appearance wont win my heart.

"Hi there Emo" he greeted. He plastered a calming smilewhich enlightened the mood that surrounds me. I literally gape upon his weird greeting. Could he be up to judging me too for having this kind of style?

"I'm sory Mr. Clean but you are talking to no one" I blabbed back trying to get him away. Geeezzzz his neatness sucks.

"Hey! Hi No One! I'm someone."