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If You Really Knew Me . . .

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If you really knew me . . . .
Imagine you are in a crowded room, several girls chattering about their summer, boys high fiving each other and talking about some random bull that no one really cares about. You’re just about to say something to the pretty, blond, and most likely popular girl who is standing next to you when she swings her hair in your face and whispers loudly to her friends:

“Haha, what a loser!”

You know they’re talking about you and suddenly all of your hope shatters on the ground just like that. The tall, very attractive senior guy at the front of the room asks everyone to sit down, so you want to sit in the front row since you’re new and want to listen to what’s happening. But suddenly every seat is taken in first few rows, even the empty chairs which comfortably seat purses and jackets. Suddenly, you realize that the only seat left in the room is the one next to the nerdy guy twiddling his thumbs and nervously looking around the room. You have no other choice really, other than to stand, but who wants to stick out like a sore thumb on the first day?

While the really cute guy at the front begins to talk, you find it hard to hear him. Mostly because you’re distracted by the whispering and disgusted looks pointed in your direction.

“Ew! Why is she sitting with that freak?”

“What a troll! Look at that frumpy dress!”

You look down at your dress; a very sophisticated black dress that stretches slightly past your knees that your mom helped you buy at Macy’s this past weekend. You loved the way the dress highlighted only the good features of your figure. While all the other girls are dressed in cheap-looking and sleazy skirts and blouses, you’re just about the only girl in the room who has some dignity left in herself.

“Would our newbies stand up and introduce yourselves to the group?” the cute guy says.

That means you. You stand up slowly and force a smile, which is more difficult than it looks when you already feel like crap. The newbies in the front stand confidently and introduce themselves to the group. A very good-looking boy with olive tone skin and sparkling eyes nearly makes four hearts stop in the room as he says his name and one thing he enjoys doing as a hobby in his deep, sexy voice. Suddenly, it’s your turn.

“Um, hi, I’m Savannah, and I’m in seventh grade . . .” you begin.

“Oh, my god! She’s in seventh grade!!?? What a pig!” you hear someone whisper near you.

You try to pretend like you don’t hear it. You act like you don’t care but as you choke out your final words about your favorite hobbies being reading and writing, something hits you like a boulder: nobody likes you. And they haven’t even met you yet.

People say I have a pretty smile; they say I’m so well-behaved and friendly and who wouldn’t want to be friends with me? But if you really knew me:

I’m a girl who is creative and has a lot on her mind, but doesn’t say much. I have a problem with my eating; sometimes I binge on food and then try to starve myself the next day. I sometimes cry myself to sleep at night and most of the time it’s because I feel like I have no friends. I’m not always smiling like you see me in church or at school. Most of the time that smile isn’t even real. It’s like white sugar: empty and fake. I want to say ‘hi’ and I really want to get to know you, but it’s so hard when everyone looks at me like I’m an elephant in the middle of a crowded room. Maybe I am an elephant. Maybe I am loser. Because it’s funny how people want to judge you before you've even said a word.



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