"Little Girl"
One-Shot
Maddie's POV:
I see the little girl all the time. Like flashbacks in my head, she's there, as a faint memory.
She tells me things, things that stop her from pursuing her dreams, or just even the simple factor of enjoying life.
She's sick and tired of being ignored, of being treated as if she wasn't even there, and being lost in her own mind.
Her mind is half the harsh battle she's facing. She was told she was worthless, or that she was nothing. And the worst part is, she believes it.
She tells me she's done with life, and that there is nothing to live for. That no one would ever even notice that she is missing.
I see her, always in the corner of everything. She purposely distances herself from the people who despite her, or just despite her existence for that matter.
After school, she's not with her friends at the mall or going to see her boyfriend. She's only going for one thing.
Her blade.
She carefully sits down everyday after a day of hatred and bullying, and puts that cold, silver weapon up against her skin, painting red. She's angry at herself for her painting-with-red habits, but she's even more furious with life if she doesn't. Her life is a constant battle between a lovely suicide or a hated life.
She cries herself to sleep, and has no one there for her. She feels worthless, stupid, messed up, excluded, unwanted, hated, done, tired, compared, ugly, unlucky. She feels like suicide.
But she plasters a fake barbie smile on her face, and continues life as if she was actually pleased with herself and the ones around her.
She's slowly drowning in her own thoughts, and you have no idea.
Oh wait, that girl is me.
//end of one-shot.
