Just a Forlorn Girl

I take a step further toward the elevated corner of the building rooftop. I let the wind slip through my hair, and the air whisper in my ears. Refreshing, I think. It is a breath of fresh air for me, in the rooftop building, ready, in a few moments, to fall into my eternal sleep.

        My mind feels numb. My heart is, too. Neither a profoundness nor emotion could be felt by me. Every single decision of mine leads to one: just sleep eternally, entirely. ‘Quit it altogether,’ my mind told me before. Nobody would look out after me anyways. Even my friends won’t know—and won’t care. If one day, they would get the news that “Your friend, Faith, was found lifeless on the ground,” they would just stare as though nothing happened. They might even joke, “Isn’t it ironic? Her name’s Faith but she lost faith in her life. Therefore, she’s a hopeless little bunny.” I don’t really care, truthfully.

        As the wind slip through my long, brown hair, I close my eyes, in reminiscence to what lead me to my ultimate decision. The last decision in my whole 19 years of cruel existence.

        I recall the bell ringing in my school where I am a senior student, signaling that our History class was giving way to lunch, the most awaited part of each and every student—except maybe me. Going to lunch might sound like the greatest thing about school (for others) because they get to gossip about every scandal going around the school, and also get to laugh at a dork that’s all alone in one corner, eating. Mean girls do that, actually, so I am not really stereotyping or whatsoever.

        “Faith, go grab lunch with us?” my friend Luna asked as I was packing my things inside my backpack. Mostly it contained notebooks, since I put my books in my locker due to its heaviness.

        I stopped packing things briefly and faced Luna. “Cool. I need to bring my books to the locker, so you and Blair should go first to the cafeteria without me,” I advised then went back to packing. Maybe “packing” might sound unappealing because it sounds like I was going to a faraway land, but it isn’t. That was what I was doing that day.

        From the corner of my eye, I saw Luna shrugged, a gesture of her that means “okay.” And I was right for she said “Okay,” as a reply to my advice.

        “Bye, Luna,” I said before I went out to the locker area, just outside the classroom. Although Luna and Blair could’ve waited for me to put my books in my locker, they chose not to, perhaps due to their feeling pangs of hunger. I totally understand that.

        Minutes later, I found two of my friends in their usual spot in the cafeteria, the one near the counter. But they were facing away from me; they were sitting side by side, so they did not see me come in the cafeteria.

        I heard them laughing. My thoughts said maybe it was because of Blair’s corny joke. Or maybe it was because of their previous gala. Blair and Luna were definitely not a part of the cheerleading squad, but they are one of those fashionistas, mainly because they are girly and rich. While me? I was one of the simple girls: t-shirt, jeans, sneakers. I’m not rich. Just a bourgeois.

        When I was in earshot of their conversation, I halted.

        “Faith is definitely a pile of junk,” Luna said in her fashionista voice. It sometimes vexes me. But since she was my friend, I learned not to mind it.

        Blair giggled. “IKR! See the way she’s dressed? So out of style! Where’d she even bought those sh*t? In a garage sale?” she said in ridicule then took a bite of her burger.