odile quintanilla : d3 : fin

odile quintanilla : d3 : fin Jan 6, 2015 20:22:53 GMT -5

Quote

Post by goat on Jan 6, 2015 20:22:53 GMT -5

What do you know, Odile? Tell me, what do you know? You cannot tell me, because you don't know anything. You know nothing, nothing of the world.

~~That's a lie I know it all I know.~~

Odile should be pretty. Odile should not sleep until 5 pm and stay awake until 6 am. Odile should brush her hair for once, and brush her teeth as well. Odile, your teeth are yellowing. They're going to fall out soon. You should shower, Odile. You haven't showered in weeks. You should shower with the lovely smelling soaps your mother bought you. It'll make your pink skin smell sweet. Don't you want to smell sweet?

Your chestnut hair has knotted itself beyond belief. Why don't you take care of yourself, Odile? Nobody will love you unless you love yourself. Get out of bed, rub the sleep from your brown eyes. Go pick some fresh clothes. You've been wearing that same outfit for days, Odile. Throwing an oversized jacket over it wont hide the stench. Wait a minute, are you drunk? Odile. Your father would be ashamed of you.

~~Fuck you I can get drunk as much as I want and you cannot stop me.~~

Yesterday was your birthday, Odile. You got drunk slept through it. How sad, to be so drunk you forget your own birthday ~~No I got drunk because it was my birthday.~~ You do realize how alone you are? You have no friends. Your mother does not want you. Your father wanted you, but he left because you are a disappointment ~~FUCK off.~~You push people away because you are scared of getting close. Why are you scared of people? Maybe you wouldn't be so sad if you just opened up to people, Odile.

You have talent. You could be useful if you just applied yourself. Why don't you? ~~I know~~ you know I you have talent. You have nimble fingers that are perfect for putting together computer chips. Maybe you would feel better if you actually got up and went to work. You don't like putting effort into anything. Why not? All you do lately is get drunk and sleep. You just don't care about the world. You pretend to act like you already know everything the world can offer, and that is why you've given up. You don't know everything, Odile. Just because you mostly know sadness doesn't mean that's all the world can give.

You are sad. You are very, very sad, and I am sorry for that ~~NO YOU AREN'T~~. But the minute life gets hard, you let it destroy you. You curl up into a ball and wait to die. You aren't strong. You're weak. Weak, weak, weak, weak ~~STOP STOP STOP~~. You're doomed to never accomplish a single thing. Odile is wasting her life away. Odile is wasting her life away. Odile is wasting her life away.

I lose track of who I am sometimes. I have to keep a list on my bedside table, so when I wake up everyday I remember. My name is Odile Quintanilla. I am sixteen- no, let me scratch that out. Now I am seventeen. My eyes are brown. My hair is brown too, except sometimes it's red. Sometimes it's green, too. But when I proudly announce the new hair color I've woken up with, everyone shakes their head and tells me it's still brown.

They don't know. I know.

I wasn't born from stardust or laughter or whatever. I was apparently born from my mother, like every other baby. I'd like to think I was born from planets colliding in a hail of shattering glass. Maybe I was, and everyone is lying to me. Thats all they do. They think they know everything ~~I DO I DO~~ but they don't. My mom lied to me the minute I was born. Yes Odile, you're beautiful, you're special, you will accomplish so much.

Fucking liar.

I was a child who did nothing. I had nobody ~~NOT TRUE NOT TRUE YOU HAD ME~~. My mom left me for hours on end while she worked her job. My father? He stayed with me until I was 8. Then he left. Died. Big factory explosion. Boom. Gone. He wanted so much for me, I know he did. He wanted me to grow up and have a big important job, and to have money, and a nice apartment. I failed him.

~~At least you can acknowledge you did~~.

Leave me alone.

I never had friends. Maybe it was the scales sprouting from my forearms, or the bugs that would crawl out of my eyes and onto my face. I saw it, I swear, it really happened. Nobody believes me. Nobody listens. Even my own mind cannot listen ~~BECAUSE I'M ALWAYS RIGHT~~. I spent schooling alone. They thought I was weird. I left school. I started to stash alcohol under my bed and chug it all when the screaming and the colors became too much. My mother hates me for it. She wants me gone. She says I'm a mooch and a drunk, and cannot be considered her daughter.

My mom is stuck with me. She can't ever keep her rude words to herself, and screams them into my ear whenever she can. My dad died because he knew I'd never accomplish anything, she says. What a cruel thing to say. She's batshit, worse than me. But there's a nagging feeling in my head that she's right. ~~Of course I'm right~~.

Something is not right with me. I am disoriented. The colors and words and people- they are not always real sometimes. Mom, she owns the factory now. She says I can come to work "whenever I stop being lazy". I am not being lazy. She makes me feel bad. I slap myself, over and over until my head stings. I am not nice to myself. I yell at myself more than I speak to others. Because what they say is true- I am a freak, a disappointment. I will never be more. ~~You will never be more~~. I know. I know I know I KNOW.

~~Odile is wasting her life away~~.

odile quintanilla
16 17
female
district 3

codeword: odair
faceclaim: jennifer damiano