She wasn't "normal". She wasn't lovely. She wasn't sociable. She wasn't particularly kind. She didn't know what song you were singing, nor what show you're talking about. And quite frankly, she probably wasn't going to look into it. She heard the same thing almost everyday. But she had one response.
"You're not like other girls."
"Well, what's wrong with other girls?"
That shut them up. And left her alone. She sang about it sometimes, late Saturday nights, on a makeshift stage in an abandoned warehouse.
"I'm not your Manic Pixie Dream Girl
And I ain't your wonder maid
No, I'm not gonna smile
'Cause I'm not here to make your day."
The girls appreciated her more than they let on, and left her alone, sitting at the back corner cafeteria table, combat boots lazily kicked up on the table, headphones on and blasting Bikini Kill and Nirvana and Bratmobile, Brave New World or 1984 propped open in one hand, an apple she pulled from her messenger bag in the other, occasionally taking a bite. She seemed unapproachable. Flirting with her was an "I hate you" dare for most boys. Her ripped jeans most definitely violated dress code- not that she cared. She flipped off teachers and boys. She gave no shits.
If you judged first, of course.
To the ladies, she was a protector. She was their own punk patron saint, defending them from creeps and unfair regulations. Her leather jacket has probably spent at least half of its existence wrapped around their shoulders.
She was loyal. She was smart. She was argumentative. She was supportive. She was confident. She was brave. She was weird. She was protective. She dropped the zines in the school bathrooms every first Monday of the month, she fought long battles against principals and English teachers, and she was passionate about it. She heard one remark every time. But she had one response.
"Why do you bother? Why not just be quiet and good? Why fight a battle?"
"What's stopping me? You definitely aren't. You can't. And I know it scares you."
YOU ARE READING
She's a Manic
Fiksi Umum-And she will crush that under the heel of her combat boot. An exploration of a girl (TW: Mention of suicide, implied homophobia)
