Support Group – part 1

  1. Name: Elouise Clarissa Burkam

I didn’t ask for this but I got it. It wasn’t my fault I was different so don’t judge me. I was born like this so I don’t know why people say its because it’s “convenient”. And so what? Screw you if you think I just wanted attention. I didn’t want that, but what I did want was acceptance. Never mind that, its not like anything would change if I stood up for myself. I remember the little things, not that it would get me very far. I remember the smell of the room in which I last saw my grandparents. I remember the first five notes to the song I heard being played by the man at the piano in the mall last weekend. I remember the color of the neighbor boy’s favorite scarf. I remember that every sunset had a pattern. I remember the very words the rich woman used seven years ago to describe the lemonade I was selling after she spit it out into my face. But none of it matters. It will never matter. Because no matter how much you think you know about me, I will never have the strength to let you in and see me for me.

I looked down at my keyboard for what seemed like seconds but it must have been longer because when I looked up, the screen to my Mac was black and I was forced to look into my own eyes. Long dull eye lashes attempted to cover the self-hating gaze at myself. I wish things were easier but they aren’t. I thought to myself that school would be better tomorrow. 

When I woke up, I realized my alarm had not gone off yet. “Stupid thing, you never work,” I mumbled and knocked the small object to the ground. It landed with it’s face on the floor, and I didn’t care if it had cracked. 

I was too tired these days to care about much. My life was too busy with thoughts to worry about extra curricular activities. Hint hint, thoughts, not a hobby or any free time, just thoughts. And I hated my life for it.

I usually walk myself to school but to be honest its not for personal enjoyment. Well, maybe more for entertainment. “Tall boy” and “Model Material” live on the street I take to get to school. They’re both new to this town, both showing up within the past four months. Of course their names weren’t really Tall Boy and Model Material, they just fit their nicknames. Not that they knew they even had nicknames. Tall boy’s real name is Adrien, and Model Material’s, Genevieve (or Gen). They seemed to get along quite well and I with them, but they didn’t know I walked past their houses every morning. Just that I was their tour guide for their first day. 

It was March now and they still walked with me to classes and sat with me at lunch with my friend Callie. I am fifteen now and even though I had a learner’s permit I chose not to drive with my parents to school. I guess if I did eventually get a car I could drive all three of them. I wonder if they would appreciate it as much as I would.

I’m surprised that they haven’t found more friends at this point, I mean both of them seem like they would hang out with more popular or appealing people. I don’t mean to stereotype them or anything but I mean they’re gorgeous, we look like the human version of the phrase “plain and simple”.

I was just on time because they were ahead of me across the street from each other, and slowly walking down their driveways. I was on the sidewalk on the right side of the road where Tall Boy’s house was. He got to the sidewalk first, walking into the early sunshine, his hair shown gold. When he almost turned around I dashed behind one of his neighbor’s bushes. Peeking past a few unpruned branches I saw Model Material with her luscious light brown curls bouncing, running across the street to Tall Boy till she was close enough to punch him lightly on the arm. I wished more than anything in the world to tell them… But that was still my secret.

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