Quiet Girl

October 28, 2008
By Victoria Darnell, Tifton, GA

I hate them.

I seethe with anger and frustration. I want to slap them all. They would look at me, shuddering at the depth of fire burning in my eyes. I would snarl and they would know how stupid they are in all their games.

Hate is such a hellish word.

Why would I even declare such and awful thing?

I despise them.

Inside me, my stomach churns with desire. Desire to rip their costumes off to burn in effigy. I would make them watch naked, exposed. How beautiful and strong would they be then?

Torture is so cruel.

How could I even dream up such an awful thing?

I tire of them.

"Shenanigans." Bah. What a stupid word. I will make my own stupid word so I can make my own clique and exclude them. They will be jealous of my wonderful world that they cannot be a part of.

Revenge is so juvenile.

Why would I wish such and awful thing?

I watch them.

Since I cannot outrage at them, I cannot torture them, and I cannot make them my friends, I will sit here alone and be patient. I will be quiet and good and kind.

"The quiet girl is always so pleasant."

If only they knew.

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