Battered and Bruised

My life isn't as beautiful as yours

Life isn't beautiful, is it? Well, maybe not yours, but mine yes. My life isn't beautiful. It isn't full of happiness, love, and everything related to the 'beautiful' word.

I'm not like other people. I'm different, but in bad ways, not in the good ones. I'm not easy going, I can't befriend anyone. I like to be alone, enjoying my lonely days. I talk less than anybody else, maybe even I'm quieter than the quiet one. I almost don't talk at all. To be honest, I don't like to talk to people. It doesn't mean that I don't like people, I just don't like to interact with them. I am always alone. Doing everything all by myself. It's okay, I'm used to it.

I wake up by the sound of my neighbor shouting at each other. I believe they don't care about other people's peace morning, they're just shouting their lungs out. Urgh, they ruin my morning. I get up and pick my towel then go to the bathroom, take a shower. it's still 7.15, so I have a lot of time until school starts.

I grab an apple from the counter then start walking to school. The wind feels cold this morning, I feel it blows in my cheeks. I walk down the street with an apple in my hand. Some fancy cars drove pass me with unknown music blasting from inside the cars. Everyone knows who drove the cars, even the fish in a small aquarium knows who they are. Let me introduce, they are 'my parents have a house full of money' kind of people. The one who always said 'don't mess with us' or 'don't you dare' or even 'you don't know my father, huh? He ruins the blah blah blah'. Trust me, don't ever get involved with them.

While here, I'm just an unusual seventeen-year-old girl. I believe I've explained to you before. My father doesn't ruin anything important. My mother doesn't have a clothing line or something that can produce money. I have no siblings who can hug me every time I need a hug. I don't have friends who will tell me that everything will be okay. Boyfriend? Don't ask me that, cause I never have.

My mom died when I was 5. My dad married a woman with 3 children. After they get married, they moved to a new house and hand me to my grandfather. Honestly, I was very happy living with my grandfather. I had no problem with that. Until we ran out of money. My grandfather is old enough to work, so we decided to stop working. So now, we just live with our savings. But, I'm still happy tho. Yes, my father doesn't give me money. He never was. And maybe never will. He didn't have a job for himself, so why would I beg for money from him.

Okay, back to the road. The fancy car with blasting music has passed me, leaving me alone with my apple. Oh no, I don't realize I already finished my apple. I walk and walk and walk until I see the gate of our 'beloved' school. Whitewood High School is written with a capital and bold letter.

I walk through the hall to my locker. I put some books there. I have chemistry in the first period. What the heck I have chemistry in this very early morning. I'm not a genius, I'm not an idiot either. I'm average if you want to know. I don't have a perfect GPA and I never failed in subjects. I think I did a good job of this. As I walk to my class, I can see the nerds, the school president with his group, the bullies and their victims, of course, I also see the jocks and his too-tight-skirt-sluts.

Some kids run pass me and deliberately hit my shoulder, make me lost my balance and hit a locker. I rub my shoulder as I grab my books from the floor. I was on my way to class when I heard someone call me. Well, not call me. Nobody knows my name.

"Hey, you!"

I turn my body to see the source of the voice. And then I see one of the jocks with a blue jacket looking at me.

"Me?" pointing my finger to my face.

"Yeah, you. You threw your body to me only to get my attention, don't you?" he says.

"Excuse me?" I bet I have this dull expression on my face.

"Never mind" he walks away leaving me with questions in my mind.

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Time passed slowly. Now I'm in the cafeteria, trying to eat my lunch. I hear kids laughing their ass out, look at my right I see two boys dancing on the table with their hands on head and eyes closed. I let out giggles. What? Am I giggling? No, I never do that. I wipe this stupid smiley face and replace them with a flat face I always wear. Hoping no one sees that one. I finish my lunch and then move my ass to the next class.

English, yeah, my next class. I sit patiently waiting for my English teacher to come in when I hear someone pulling a chair beside me. I turn my head to see who that is. Turns out I see a boy who was with blue-jacket-boy I accidentally crashed into. He doesn't look at me and sit beside me like I'm not here. Mrs. Thompson, our English teacher entering the class with hands full of books. I can see 'homework' written on her face. I can predict we will have homework by the end of this period.

Mrs. Thompson begins explaining when I feel the boy beside me poke my forearm.

"Pst, can you give me some papers?" he's asking me.

I give him some papers for him.

"Thanks". He puts a smile on his face.

"Okay". I say as I nod at him.

"I forgot to bring papers". He says.

"Okay". I turn my head to see the board in front of us.

I know he wants to say something but I keep my head ahead trying to ignore him.

I didn't realize I was daydreaming until I feel pokes in my forearm.

"Hey. Are you there?"

I move my body so he can't touch me.

"Hey" he keeps poking my arm.

"What?" I find him annoying.

"Wanna join the group?" he asks me

"What group?"

"Project group"

"Oh," I answer him as short as possible.

"Oh," he was imitating me. "So?"

"What?" I turn to face him. Oh my lord, he has a nice nose. I have this habit where I always look at the nose instead of the eyes. Cause you know, eyes can show you many things and I'm afraid that people can see me through my eyes.

"Project group" he answers impatiently.

The bell rings, thank the lord. "I gotta go," I say to him, then I leave the class.

After 3 classes, finally, I can bring my ass back home. But I'm not happy, cause the real torture just begins.

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