Shrug

Part 1 - Before

[Before you read: You will probably hate the main character and might not agree with how she thinks. Do not bash me for that. This character is entirely fictional.]

Before

Sometimes I just wish somebody would say that I'm pretty.

You know, complimenting that the new black skirt I'm wearing made me look attractive, or noticing that I added an extra wing with my eyeliner. That includes not saying 'oh you got a new skirt' or 'wow you look like a whore' because that's not what I wanted. I wanted flattery. It couldn't be just 'it's cute' or 'you're going to get all the boys tonight', either. It had to be genuine.

And let's admit it; you probably sought attention at least one point in your life. No, scratch that. You sought attention pretty frequently in your life. You probably didn't even realize it most of the time. Who wouldn't love to be in the centre, the one who everybody listened to with their undivided attention?

Humans are attention whores.

It's not because we're trying to be 'cool', or even because we want to be logical. We just like the looks we get. We like it when others are focussed on the way we speak as they bob their heads up and down as if they understand what we're saying.

But want to know the stinking truth? Nobody cares. Not one single body out there will ever care about you. We're too busy thinking about ourselves to even worry about another person. What we're going to wear tomorrow, how we did on the chemistry test, what we're having for dinner . . . the pointless list goes on. Nobody really pays attention to another person's problems or stories until they realize how important something was, but then it's usually too late.

I guess if you follow my reasoning, I bet nobody would even grieve for two seconds if I commited suicide. People always make a big deal out of someone's suicide, but what's the point if you don't realize the extremities without the act of death? Suicide could bring out someone's name for a brief time, but probably wouldn't be remembered for the years to follow. I'll just end up being one of 'those girls' if I do it anyways.

It's better to be one of those girls though, rather than the girl I am now. Better to be forgotten than remembered.

But before I make it onto national television (or maybe I won't even make it local), let me tell you my story. I don't know what to call it since nobody's really been interested in my life. It's okay if you want to stop reading right here because I'm just a boring person to everyone anyways. I'm already aware of it at this point in my life and I won't deny it. I'm used to it.

Unless you're so bored that you're willing to listen to a boring person's story, I'm not stopping you. Here's my untitled story.

Trust me, you'll be just like everyone else.

2016 update: Slowly reviving this story. :) Stay tuned for newer chapters.

Who are you guys most looking forward to seeing again?

For new readers, what do you think will happen in this story?

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Twitter: inoorica

-Norika