melancholia ✔︎

sarah

"Hello?" she pauses. "Hey, Teen Help at your service. What can I help you with? Do you need emergency help? If so, please dial the police. If not, we are here at your service to help you today, " she says.

"Sarah. It's Amy."

"Oh. Hi Amy again!! I didn't get to finish talking to you yesterday! What can I help you with? I'm happy to solve any of your problems!"

"I'm on drugs... And pregnant. I know both aren't good together, but could you maybe help..." I trail off.

She deserves to be taught a lesson. And I'm brilliant at this. Faking.

"Okay..." She sounds doubtful.

"Don't tell Kyle... Shhh. It's a secret... Between us."

"Um, okay?"

"I'm not. But drugs might be a great option."

"I kind of figured. And I know you're lying. I'm not stupid, Amy. Honey, I may be a freaking blonde cheerleader, but Im not an airhead." She pauses for a moment once again. "Kyle talks a lot about you, Amy."

"Okay... Why?" I ask. Something stirs inside of me somewhere, a feeling I can't define.

"I think there might be...Sparks. But I'm not one to say anything." Sarah laughs, her voice merry and hinting. She sounds like the girl in my school who's my polar opposite.

The cheerleader that has a natural big smile.

She's loud, she's cheerful, she's pretty.

She's popular. She has a boyfriend and tons of friends. Someone I'd definitely never be.

It sounds just like her anyways.

Sarah's cheerful. Pretty loud. A cheerleader. And she's probably beautiful.

"Why would he like a girl like me?" I mutter under breath.

Why would he?

Why wouldn't he prefer a girl like my opposite? He isn't like me.

I'm a girl with an uncertain future.

I'm a girl who's broken and dying inside.

"Because!" Sarah says. "He must see something special in you! Because if you forget about your worries, and your depression, there's someone underneath all of that. A personality, a person that he really wants to know."

I ponder on her words.

Why would he care?

I was an irritable grumpy teenager to him who was moody and mad, as well as crying and depressed.

So why does he care?

Because no one cares. I know that for a fact.

I don't even care.

Not anymore.

I'm a useless stupid bag of crap. And I know it. Everyone knows it.

I can't help but become the person that they hate. They say I'm stupid. Well I don't care about school, grades, or that nonsense everyone else seems to care so much about.

"Maybe," I admit.

Is it possible to hear someone smile? Maybe.

"But it still isn't a reason to still live."

I feel like a little kid. All I want is one frigging reason to live.

People don't appreciate how lucky they are.

To have a happy family.

To not be suicidal and depressed.

To be free and not judged for who they are.

The things people take for granted, like happiness, is something someone else is praying for.