Unpretty

Baked

Sometimes imagination is your best weapon against reality. If something in your life seems to be going terribly you can always imagine it going or getting better. I know that sometimes this doesn't help your case in being human and the happy ending crap Disney taught us, when things you want don't exactly happen as planned.

But it's just something or somebody you want not something you need. Imagining can be your best option because the fear of the real world can shake us until we've lost our best defense. Our imagination.

"Let's try a part-time job, something for us to do together." Naomi insisted. "It'll be fun. You need fun Cara." Mhm.

I'm actually worried about this idea. I have no clue why she assumes a job would clear my depressive thoughts or at the very least be fun... I mean, what? A job? Having fun while working a job? There was a time where I loved working. I was open to doing any kind of job rather the task hard or humiliating, exhausting or easy. I had a ambitious setting and I'd often sing "you wanna be me, but you can't, you wanna beat me but you can't" brassily to my old classmates... they loved to call me immature.

And only to lose interest in work and being up to the task. One day my body and my mind just wasn't up to it. My parents didn't really understand why I was so miserable when they gave me what I wanted. They already know, they don't fully accept me and that is the problem.

Either way Naomi has my best interest at heart. Today is Friday and after today I'd have completed my first week scarcely at Merryweather. Although I thought, If I'm going to survive another day I have to pretend another day. And I'm kind of sick of pretending.

"Did you talk to Ross yet?" Jess locks arms with me on my left and Cassie on my right arm in the school hallway. Ah, Friday. They properly wrinkle my Ru Bomber jacket while asking me about the person I wanted nothing to do with or want to hear from. Not even a apology. Today I side with fashion and a nice long pony tail that I left effortlessly. I was wearing thermal leggings, Richer poorer Rosey socks, and a Feminin tee with the black bomber jacket and white polka dots surrounding it. Some days I was meant to be a girl.

"No." I say straight forward. "I don't plan on it either," I make a face.

"Cara, Excuse me?" Jess went. "Look. I'm sure he wasn't going to rape you. And if you were a little more sane you would have given him consent."

"I'm sane." I say in my defense, smiling. Jess doesn't believe me and Cassie shakes her head at the whole thing. "Trap his ass Cara."

"What kind of guy is he even like?"

I was playing a part. The act of the girl who has a choice. Today I was the girl who believed in love but wasn't sure if my apparent love was good enough for me. Really, I wasn't good enough for them. So I ask questions that I don't really need the answers to because I know the results around and back. This is my script. And they don't lie when they say all the world's a stage.

Jess then nudged my arm without warning "What does it matter what kind of guy he is, he's cute and he likes you."

I could see that she wasn't getting where I was coming from or understanding my part because what kind of teenage girl doesn't want a guy like Ross? He's supposed to be everything. He's the guy you want to hold in the hallway and you'll be that couple everyone thinks is perfect... but what about the girl, how exactly does it end for her?

We all stopped at my locker and I faced them.

"Cute doesn't get you anywhere."

"It does, ugly people just like saying that." Cassie says.