Complimentary Colors
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My back hurt when I woke up that day in August. After two months of not socializing more than I had to, I felt no desperate need to shower. I dragged my smelly, zombie body to the computer out in the living room. It was meant to just be like the rest of the summer but it really wasn’t. Not even close.
But wait.
This isn’t about how I met a friend I will have for life. This is about how the entire existence of this young girl over an ocean away changed my meaning of that life.
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Hello. I’m Cassidy. I’m 16 years old, and I am helpless. I’m weak, defenseless and not to mention unassuming. I am utterly boring and uninteresting. I wouldn’t be surprised if God himself overlooked me. Maybe that’s why my life sucks so much. My face is dull and pale, and my hair is mousy brown. My eyes are black and my fingers are long and stringy. Once in junior high, a teacher likened me to ghost. I had wanted to tell her, “Yes. I remind myself of a ghost sometimes too.” But I didn’t say anything in return. I have one friend and even she doesn’t like me for me; only for the shiny new car my step dad bought me. Boys don’t notice me. And when they do it’s only to pick out my flaws and display them to everyone around. All in all, I am a sad and pathetic specimen of a human being. Why am I writing this? Because on June 3rd, 2011, at 12:31 am, I died.
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