To: The Voice in My Head

High School, the supposed best four years of your life. The four years you make and lose friends. The four years that prepare you for the real world. The stereotypes you carry for four years start, and if you are lucky enough you can alter what group you are placed in. The “popular” girls, the girls no one will care about after high school, they wear their makeup and check themselves in the mirrors to make sure they are “good enough” for the guys; me I wear makeup and carry mirrors to hide my imperfections.

I walk down these crowded hallways. A person can barely move between the people, and breath with all the gossip and judgement filling the air. The air is toxic in these hallways. You walk down the hallway with scattered lights, but it feels as if you are walking down a dark alley not knowing you are walking into a fight. The people are ruthless; they don’t let up. They point out your flaws to make themselves higher; like the bullies in the allies beat you and steal from you to show their power. You live in fear of what people think of you. You try to hide, but it is hard to hide in an open plain. As you walk down these halls, you you are choked with the mixed emotions; all the sorrow, fear, hatred, and pleasure in the air make you want to leave to get fresh air. You finally get outside, but it doesn’t stop; you realize there is judgement, fear, and depression everywhere in the world and there is no escaping it.

Rumor: “a currently circulating story of uncertain or doubtful truth.” In most movies, rumors always have a happy ending; the rumor spread about me did not, however. I already know you know that story, however, because you replay it everyday for me; how it felt, what happened, and who helped me through it all. When a rumor spreads, you really need to be surrounded by your best friends, but it’s hard to be surrounded by them when they were the ones that started the rumors. Have you ever lost one of your best friends? Not to a death, but to a fight or just growing apart? It’s harder than a death, because in a death you act or believe they are better wherever they are. When they are still alive, though, whenever you see them you think of what you used to have, what they did to you, what you did to them, and you always have to be ready to avoid awkward moments that are thrown at you like a baseball you weren’t ready for.

You know me, I’m just an average teenage girl, not too big, not too small, but not too pretty, either; at least this is what I’ve been told. My long brown hair, my kindness, and my intelligence is what I think makes me beautiful; that’s not what I’m told though. I’m told that I’m not smart enough, not everything about me is pretty, and I’m just not good enough. Most days I believe what those people say to me. I guess that’s what makes me stupid, ignorant, or just blind to my own eyes. My question is how am I considered ugly and not good enough in comparison to the people saying these awful things?

You bring them into my mind as often as the story that goes with it. You bring back those typical white girls, chomping on their gum with their fake attitudes. They pretend they are high and mighty, but truly they will do anything anyone says to be “popular”. They try to hide the “geek” label they once place upon themselves. They love to gossip and they love to lie; I would know because they’ve made me cry. They tore me apart piece by piece and tried to strip me of the life I once had. They’ve seen me without my makeup, and they’ve seen my true colors. Somehow they used my flaws against me. They pinned me as what they are now, but I’ve never been like their present selves. They ruined my friendships, they ruined my past, and at one point they even ruined my family. They are the people that ruin high school for many. This is why I carry my makeup and mirrors, so they will never see the imperfect me again, but I will forever see the imperfect them.

Sincerely,
The Girl You Haunt