She Would Have Been Prom Queen.

December 5, 2009
By , buffalo, NY
She was the girl that would have went on to be prom queen. Everyone liked her as soon as they started talking to her. People would get annoyed with her overly talkative ways and obnoxious behaviors but they'd have a two minute conversation alone with her and it wouldnt be possible to get upset with her. She was the girl everyone could joke around with, the one guys jokinly made fun of and smiled at even when she was young. She would throw herself under a bus for you in a secound even if she knew you would never do the same. The type of girl that lived by the saying "just because someone doesn't show you doesn't mean they don't show someone else love." She didn't act her age, much older, easily could carry on conversations with others twice her age. She was the girl that people just liked to be with.

When she was six, she'd sit on the couch and watch her dad. Her dad would come home and break doors. He'd be drunk or high so he'd yell and scream, threatening her mom. He'd break the phone so she couln't call the police. Sometimes she'd hide in the closet so she couldn't hear. One day she watched her dad break everything in the house, then she watched him put in handcuffs and taken away in a police car. When she was eight she'd wait days for her dad to come over, but he'd be too drunk sometimes so he'd have to leave. She learned to help her mom when she was crying, and how to make it seem like eveything was going to be okay. At eleven, she learned what guilt was. She learned how to handle writing letters to her dad in prison, she learned what to say to him and how to make him feel hopeful even when she was lost. She learned how to sit across from a man in orange pants and whole heartlivly hug him while a prison guard watched. She taught herself how to have hope when the world knocks you down, and how to give it to others when they were down.

She watched her dad come out of prison, go to rehab, hospitals and get an apartment. She saw her mom smiling at her new boyfriend, and her brother playing at hockey games. She laughed and went out occasionally with her friends. Her friends never once saw her cry.

At fourteen, she saw the world as a beginnings for the first time in a long time. She learned what it was like to have a dad. She was ready for life, for friends and to seperate from tears she had in her past. She was the girl that would have went on to be prom queen.

At fourteen, she waited for her dad to call her back and he never did. The next day her mom was crying, she asked if her dad was okay. Her mom said in disgust he was but the girl he was with isn't. At fourteen, she got to learn that the man she'd spent her whole life loving and forgiving had killed someone. Her brother ran to his room and slammed the door. On instinct she ran to her mom to comfort her and tell her everything was going to be okay. She didnt cry until that night when no one was there, and she did the same for every night throughout the year. No one once saw her cry, she made sure of that. She learned that no one she had in her life was going to be the one to comfort her, but she could comfort them. At fourteen she learned people made generization about a murderers daughter. At fourteen, she learned to hate the word murderer. She loved her dad, and she was strong. At fourteen she learned how to walk through school hallways smiling and laughing so her classmates didnt assume things. She learned how to always be ahead of the class but do it quietly so that teachers didnt assume things.

She learned how to clench her teeth and smile, she learned how to pinch her fingers so when she laughed she didn't start crying, and she learned to on all those nights when she couldn't sleep to instead look over notes from class she couldnt pay attention to when she was taking.

At sixteen, she learned how to do something that wasn't selftaught but selfdone. She started to forget. To forget her dad. She now only knew him from the horror stories she suffered through when her mom told, but knew her mom had to tell to get off her chest and the letters her dad sent less and less. At sixteen, she lost hope because she no longer had any to give. At sixteen she was no longer the prom queen or the girl everyone joked with. She wasn't obnoxious, she never talked. And all those friends she had, she pushed away and couldnt seem to get back. At sixteen, she learned how to tell someone how she felt. Everynight before she'd go to bed she started to pray. Everynight its was the same prayer, it was how she feels that night, followed by a question. The question is if he'll send her someone to be there for her. Someone to make the pain stop. She says she'll be who she used to be, who she wants to be, but she doesn't want to be that person alone. She wants to help everyone, but she doesn't have the strenght. She prays everynight for the help from that one guy, she doesn't want to be alone anymore. Everynight she prayers that she won't be alone anymore, but tomorrow it'll be the same prayer.

She hardly remembers the girl in the pictures. The girl who used to walk around with the popular crowd. The girl who could so easily become the center of attention. She doesnt know who that girl is or was. All she knows is thats no longer the girl she see's in the mirror.
She still makes jokes to ditract from talking about her past or her father but sometimes leaving the room to get a drink is easier. She still can take all the joking people do, but they stopped finding it fun with her, she doesnt have quick joking comebacks shes numb.

Now she's the girl that walks around like a zombie. She's the girl with her earphones on, like no one else is there. She's the girl that all the guys stare out but she can't hold the glance. She's the girl that other girls and there friends give dirty looks to, but at the same time smile a little bit because at some point shes helped all of them. You can't help but be kind to a girl with that much pain in her eyes who would still throw herself under a bus for you, even though she knows you would never do the same. She's the girl will never be prom queen.

At sixteen, she wakes up every morning hoping tonight she won't go asleep knowing she's alone.

At sixteen, she started writing.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback