^{Standing} Alone^[Death]
Aug 22, 2014 13:09:45 GMT -5
Post by Loony on Aug 22, 2014 13:09:45 GMT -5
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[/presto][googlefont="Marvel:400"]It's a normal day, with never ending classes and a teacher not too kind. But as I sit in the math class I begin to notice a slight rustling from the girls behind me. There is a place in the heart that takes in words through the blood. It absorbs the hurt from each blood cell, taking it in and holding it close to the bottom of a heart. Now I sit in class, close to the front, listening to the drawl of a teacher. Heart pumping, taking in the words of the girls behind me. Its clear the giggles are intended towards me, but I can't make out the words. My spirit wavers, wishing I could open a book, escape to a place where the words only exist in its own world. My frame slouches, as the words grow in volume and I can begin to make out the words.
The words float ever so gently to my ears. The few words that catch my attention tell me of that I'm not very welcomed here. "Fat. Freak. Loser. Bitch." I am a simple outcast, with a body like a plump pear, and a face streaked with obnoxious freckles. I have been forced into the role of an outcast. My heart clings by strings within me, and each word snipping another string and setting my heart deeper into despair. I am saved by the sharp ring of the bell, an ocean leaks from my sea-blue eyes, and I taste the salty waves on my lips. I stand and walk away from the girls, who walk with pencil thin bodies and long, beautiful hair, yet spit words of hate. With my books in hand, I try to run, but they keep up, still throwing words that make my heart fall into my stomach.
I race through the halls, and people clear a path almost saying "let's make room for the Karina hating." No one tries to stop it, they know its just part of the daily routine of District 5. I don't speak up, I never have. What is the point of standing up against them if I'm only going to stand alone. Usually they get bored and leave me be, letting me escape to the world of books. But today its almost as if the world is trying to tell me that its time for me to accept that I'm just a simple freak. I want to make believe some one cares about me, but as the words keep on flying at me I come closer and closer to giving up. "Aw, look at the little freak. Are those tears? I can't tell if those are her eyes or not, the fucking bitch." I hang my head, and take in the words, letting my heart filter them out, and cut the strings of my heart.
(OOC: If you want I can take out the curses.)
