Wishing in the Woods
Author's note: My grandmother's quote, "If we were all the same, life would be boring." truly inspired me.
Entering the HeatLonely. The one thing no one wants to be. Why do I have to deal with this torturous feeling of abandonment? I ask myself this question every day, with no answer.
As I buy my mundane lunch of chicken nuggets and milk, I go sit at a corner table by myself. No one dares to offer me a seat. Absolutely no one “cool” wants to be seen with the red-headed freak, me. Solemnly I, Ella Safire, devour my lunch. It is not that I am hungry, just melancholy. Of course I do not show it. Keeping a straight face is a key factor in the tenth grade. When people see your emotions, they can use them against you. Now, this might not be the case with all schools, but it is most definitely with mine. Every time I attempt to meet new friends, they laugh and walk away. I try to keep a positive attitude, but getting rejected is never easy. My guidance counselor and mom endeavor to help, but it does not work. Therefore, they do not feel it is their fault; I keep a pleasant face on and hope for the best. Although, it is always the worst no matter what.
“Hello honey how was your day at school?” mom asks inquisitively. She looks at me expectantly when the day’s events start to come into reality. I want her to find a way to cure my shattered life.
I cave and admit, “Not great at all. Why does everybody reject me?” hysteria creeps into my voice. Her eyes are fixated on me as she carefully contemplates an answer.
“Oh, Ella,” she sighs. Her pity for me is obvious as she explains, “I know it is frustrating to try to fit in, but you just need to be yourself! Remember, if we were all the same…,” my mother trails off.
“Life would be boring.” I hesitantly finish my grandmother’s quote. This is what she has been saying to me since I could understand the human language. It has been repeated to me one million times. Or at least, that is how many times I feel she has said this to me. The quote has been permanently engraved into my mind. I do not think I will ever be able to forget it.
“Well, I am sorry to hear about your rough day at school,” she sincerely states. “We all have a sour one once in awhile.” She evidently does not understand the depth and severity of my problem.
I have a sour day every day, I think to myself. I have to get away. “I will be in the woods. I need some tome to sort things out.” These people do not comprehend anything about me!
“Okay! Be home by dinnertime!” My mom yells as I dart out the door as quick as my legs will carry me. The woodland area lies in my very own backyard so it is quite accessible.