Raindrops

Welcome to Doomsville

A raindrop rolls slowly down my window. I watched it, wondering why the heck it wouldn't roll down faster. Maybe it didn't want to. If it rolled down all the way, it would just become part of the big pool of water in the crevice between window and door. Maybe it just wanted to be completely individual, different. By rolling so slowly, staying out of the pool, it can keep its individuality.

But then again, it's just another raindrop.

My name is Alexis Rayne Carter. I like Alex. Alexis isn't the kind of name you'd expect for a person like me. I guess my parents thought I'd be a perfect little Alexis, with good grades and perfect attendance, or whatever. But, look at how I turned out. My parents would be disappointed, but I haven't seen then in forever. I last saw them when I was three months old. They aren't here to care about my bad grade, or rude behavior.

They just aren't here.

Sometimes, I wonder if I would've come out any better if my parents were here. I wouldn't have had to go to all of those orphanages that made me the crappy person I am today. I would've had people to look up to, and I might have been a somewhat okay kid. I mean, I guess I was an okay-ish kid anyway, but I know I could definitely have come out better.

Well, it's too late for that.

I am considered a freak, scene, Goth, emo, crazy. I've been called it all. But I know I'm not all of that stuff, except maybe a little crazy. Just because I'm different from everyone else, I'm treated like a freak. No matter where I go, I'm always considered the weirdo.

You know the saying, "Stop trying to fit in when you were born to stand out"? Well, that doesn't mean shit. If you're different, people are going to hate it, and trash you for it.

The messed up part is kind of appealing to me, in a messed up way. I don't want to be considered normal. I want to people to see me, know me, recognize me. Even if the only reason people know who I am is because I'm "the freak". Besides, I wouldn't fit in anyway. Nobody likes the things that I do. There's no little clique where I belong. I'm all by myself. But sometimes, the hurtful words can be a bit hard to deal with. But I deal.

I continued to watch the raindrop slide slowly down the outside of my window. I unconsciously started tracing the path the raindrop left with my finger. After a couple more long seconds, the raindrop slid to the bottom of the window where it disappeared from my sight.

As I continued staring out at the gloomy, rainy world outside, the car stopped next to an old and depressing-looking building.

My new "home".

See, because I had no parents, I had been living in orphanages my whole life. But apparently, I was usually too "rebellious" and "dangerous" to stay in one orphanage for more than 2 months because everyone was afraid I'd be a bad influence on the innocent kids of the orphanages.

Innocent. Ha.

My Social Service agent lady had been muttering about me for the whole two hour trip. The words "terrible" and "I can't believe this is happening again" were all I could catch.

Her name was Ms. Vaan. I could tell why she hadn't gotten married. She was way too crabby and mean for anyone, even extremely desperate guys, to want to marry her. Her tight bun and strict square glasses showed her personality perfectly. Her long, claw-like nails, were always painted a bright red color, contrasting with her always gray blouse and black shirt. Her pointed black pumps click-clack on the ground, immediately announcing her presence and spreading a sense of dread through you.

Maybe one day she'd meet an incredibly nice and wonderful person that will balance out all of her grumpiness.

She sighed and I looked at her warily, getting ready for the long and stern lecture she was going to give about how I had to be good, and try and act normal. As if. No matter how hard I tried to be normal, I was always classified as different. After a while, I stopped caring and just became myself.