Imperfection

By , chandigarh, India
I get ready for school, wear my uniform and climb the yellow school bus. A couple of friends pass greetings and I go and sit next to my best friend. I enter the school, they do not mind me, they have never had. I go sit in my class waiting for my another best friend to join me. We both are the most rejected and ignored people in the class and they emphasize on it by picking on us and passing nasty and snide comments. By practise we are used to it and do not mind much. My strong character never lets me cry on front of anyone. I am an anorexic. All they see is a skinny girl with all her features covered with pimples. They never let me forget it. That's what they tease me with. The class slut laughs with them. All I do is ignore. What else is possible? They are too many in number. They think that they are perfect with their spiked hair and cool swagger. What they don't see is their arrogance and egos based upon the fact that they are good in sports and their meanness. And no body has the guts to say anything to them. My friends try to stand up to them but they fail. After all we are only five in number while they are more then twenty egomaniacs along with the support of the girls who are too scared to say anything to them. What can we do? I deal with their teasing in the school and make it seem like it does not hurt at all. Like what they say does not matter at all. Like it does not hurt me at all.
Then I go home and take a shower. I look at myself in the mirror. All I can see is the loser they call me. I see ugliness in all parts of my body. The pimples they make fun of? Check. The weird accent they don't get? Check. The skinny body which makes me look more like my male classmates?Check. The spectacles they like to break by tripping me? Check. They hair which is always too oily with same old middle parting along with a braid? Check.

They do not want to know whats inside. They do not know the understanding in those eyes hidden by the glasses, the kindness and emotions disguised by those pimples on my face. They do not know that I cry because of their comments. They do not know that I think of suicide every day but stop short just because of what consequences would be on my parents. I sleep at night to find my pillow to be wet in the morning. They do not know about those hurt emotions surging inside me. Then the emotional breakout occurs. No one is home to hear it. The dogs outside start barking but I ignore them. I have to let this out some way or the other. And I choose this. I bottle my feelings up and then let them out at once. My eyes sting and are red and that's when the tears stop. And then the cutting begins. I use the razor blade and cut my stomach in endless spirals made the day before, reopening the wounds, refreshing the scars. I stop when i start feeling dizzy by the loss of blood. That's the way I deal with it. To all the haters out there, yes you completed your mission. I am slowly killing myself. I am sorry. I just can not deal with this imperfection anymore. My strength has failed me. One day my parents would find me covered in a pool of blood on the bathroom, dead. Then also you would escape saying that you said those things as a joke. So I lose the battle either way. But cutting is the only way that would end it all....





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