So this is what getting beat up feels like, huh? Ha-ha no. Just kidding. I've known this pain since third grade. Not really kicks and punches. No it wasn't usually like that. They would throw me up against walls at recess, throw soccer balls at me, basketballs too. I don't have the slightest idea what I did to make them angry. They're just jealous. I used to tell myself. I'm just....better than them, right? That's why they're jealous......right?
~
Back in my third grade years, I had an amazing realization. I was, and still am, mind you, weird. Of course, at the time, I still had friends, so that wasn't the answer to my desperate question. If anything, it made me even weirder, considering I wanted to keep my dear friends close. And of course, the wretched acts of violence upon my fragile, at the time, being continued. It was driving me insane! I did have a good time-consumer, but alas, it was a school activity, a one time a day experience, which made me long for the next day, yet dread it, all at the same time.
Until, on one glorious day, the art teacher offered me and one of my only friends private art classes. I was ecstatic. My favorite thing to do, and I would have more of it, every day, and with my best friend. But then, we moved. Of course, the moving itself wasn't what my unhappiness fed off of. No, it was leaving my friends, and my one chance at peace. All of it just seemed to slip through my fingers like pure, golden, sand.
If only, I hadn't waited until now to express my desire to draw, paint, sculpt, anything! Naturally, at my new school, I wasn't as bad the first day as it was the rest. Day after day, being verbally abused, insulted, picked on because of things as simple as my last name. Month after month, soon turned into year after year, constant torture! Nowhere to turn, because at every turn, lied a different path, that is true, but a path to my destruction. I turned to sports, comments like,
"You suck!" "Quit already, will ya'?"
Just recently, I turned to music. Of the kind, well; it begins with a supportive meaning, and ends with sore throats. From this, came comments like,
"Tch, Devil-worshipper" "Emo freak" "Why don't you just take your stupid Satan songs and shove 'em up your-" Well, you get the point.
All in all, there is always one thing that I can't seem to escape from, more like refuse to, and it apparently, adds fuel to the fire. If it gets any worse, no, I won't resort to cutting, or killing myself. No, that's far too lenient. Of course, these horrible people, don't have hearts of gold. In fact, I don't recall them having hearts at all. If I died, what would it matter to them? It may have been the end of a world, my world. But their 'hearts' still beat, their minds still think. What senseless people. Knowing no emotion but joy towards the suffering of an individual.
Oh, and just look at me, preaching to the choir. Where have my manners gone? My name is Alice. Alice Labre. Yes, my last name is French. I guess I'm a decendan-
"Yo, Alice in Wonderland, get with it." Mr. Shemner said, tapping my desk. The class began to laugh at my nickname; given to me due to the fact that I often tend to daydream, or think too hard.
"Yeah. Alice" I looked up. Everywhere. All around the room. All you could hear. "Alice, ALICE!" I wanted to run and hide. I am shy, I hate attention, but this, was agonizing. My eyes searched the room frantically, my head never moving. Finally, I had found the escape I was searching for, only it was seemingly miles away. While I waited for class to end, my goal unreachable, the glares intensified, as I was ignoring them.
At long last, the bell rang and I sprang up, almost knocking over my chair, and quickly shuffled out. When I was somewhat close to my locker, I was roughly pushed up against one. Now naturally, since I shuffle my feet all day everyday, I am bound to get shocked by my locker 24/7. And I do. But this time, the physical shock was miniscule compared to the mental shock of the mere thought of physical abuse.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get in your way! Honest!" I basically pleaded for him not to hurt me. I quivered in fear as I got no response right away. "P-p-please don't hurt me." I whispered, closing my eyes.
"I won't hurt you." He said, but I still didn't believe him. I didn't move. Suddenly, I felt arms wrap around me. Hugging me? I whimpered. "Shhh. It's alright. I swear I'm not gonna hurt you. Calm down, please. And let me explain." He told me. I'm pretty sure the hallway was empty by now, and we would be late for class.
"E-explain? What do you need to explain?" I asked, truly curious.
"Just hear me out. I was pushed by a jock myself, and when I rammed into you, I thought you were another jock, and waited to be pushed again. When I wasn't, I realized you were there. I really didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry." He said and my eyes widened.
H-he was.....apologizing? Never before have I seen such a thing. "Don't be so blind. I forgave you as soon as you hugged me. Which could have been a bad idea, if you weren't trustworthy, that is." I explained. Then I realized he was still hugging me. "Erm....can you let go of me now?" I asked.
He looked down and slowly released me. I think we are gonna be friends. He seems friendly enough. "Sorry. So.... Friends?" He asked, holding out his hand as an offering gesture.
"Y-yeah. Sure. Friends." I said, taking his soft, warm, hand in my delicate one to seal the deal
