All Aloneby Rayona Rawford
Have you ever wondered why they stare at you? Why they don't seem to want to get to know you? They don't even give you a chance to show them you really are a good person. You would never tell them how you really feel. You just want them to know how you feel inside, but you can't. That's how I felt. That's how they made me feel. I never wanted them to hate me. I never wanted them to treat me the way they did but they did. What did I ever do to hurt them? What did I do to make them treat me the way they did? Everyday I walk in the same halls, I walk in the same classrooms and they still can't seem to leave me alone. They don't care if I live or die.
I admit, I'm different and I don't act like all the others at school. I know I may not be into sports or school activities, but that doesn't give them a right to abuse me physically and emotionally. I don't understand it. My hair is longer than what other guys expect. It's black and green. They don't like that. That is one reason they hate me. I wear black all the time and sometimes I'll wear a kilt over my black pants. They hate that. I even wear eyeliner. I don't think anything is wrong with that. Why do they. They hate it. I get beat up all the time and I'm afraid to tell my parents because I don't want them to worry about me. I just...I don't know. My parents have been through enough. They have to worry enough with their own problems.
I only want to be myself. I don't choose to be like the others at my school. I want to be who I really am. I listen to music they don't like. I like to write poetry. I don't understand what is wrong with that. I just don't think trying to be like everyone else is going to help me at all. My life is how I choose to live. If I were to be like everyone else, what would that prove? What would that say to those who want to be different?
My worst day at school happened to be on my birthday. It was lunch and I had to go to the cafeteria. I was headed that way when someone grabbed me. I don't know why, but I was dragged to the boysí bathroom. I was scared cause some of the biggest guys in the school surrounded me. Being a freshman only made things worse. They basically said freshman get beat worse. Now if youíre at the bottom of the school chain like I was, there was nobody to help you. Nobody cared. They didn't want to be where I was. They'd rather just care about themselves than stop to help those in need. I was in for it. I was going to get the worst beating I've ever had. I knew nobody would help me no matter what. I knew I probably wouldn't live through this, and if I did, I probably would be damaged for life. Not on the outside, but on the inside. Where I'd always have to think about it and be afraid to leave my house.
Well, the captain of the football team grabbed me by the throat and slammed me hard into the wall. I closed my eyes tight in pain. I hoped I didn't die. That's all that was going through my mind. I prayed to God that I didn't die. I didn't want to die. The only way I'd want to die was if I was to kill myself.
He punched me hard in the face and I felt blood come from my nose. My face was on fire. I could feel it on the inside. He hit me twice more and I fell to my knees. He still had me by the throat and that's when the harder punching started. He was hitting me in the face and back of the head. My whole body fell to the floor after he hit me in the side of the head. The other guys then started kicking me and hitting me. I tried blocking the hits but it didn't work. My arms were getting kicked too and they were getting kicked hard.
One of the guys kicked me in the back of the head and that's when I guess I blacked out.
I don't know what I did to deserve any of this. I don't know what made them do this to me. What did I do to them? Absolutely nothing. I don't understand why I had to be treated the way I was. My life was worth nothing. I was worth nothing. I was like a page being torn out of a book. Nobody cared about that one page. That page was just left alone to be forgotten. Just like me. I was a torn worn out page left in the dark.
I don't know when I woke up. But when I did, I was in more pain than when I was getting beat up. My head hurt the worst. My back and chest hurt so much. I was in the most amount of pain than I ever was.
My mom was next to me. She had been crying and I could see she was tired. She just smiled and told me how happy she was to see me. I wished I wasn't a mistake. That's what I started calling myself a while back. A mistake. My life was a joke. A joke to everyone. To me my life was my worst nightmare. I wish so badly it was a dream. All I wanted to do was wake up. Wake up from this stupid nightmare. Wake up from this place that was my prison. It would never happen cause this was my real life. A place I could never escape.
I ended up with a broken arm, a fractured ankle, a broken hand, a bruised neck, four broken ribs, 15 stitches in my back, 12 stitches in my head and a severe or what I'd say, major concussion. I was sick. I was sick of it all. How could someone want to keep going like I am? I didn't want to keep going. I didn't want to keep living like this. I wanted to give up. If I gave up and killed myself, I'd be letting them know they beat me. I didn't want that. Maybe I had a chance to keep going. Maybe I could do something with my life. Maybe not. Maybe I could kill myself and forget about everything. I don't think I could do that. My life sucked but if I killed myself I would be a failure. I would be a quitter. What would I look like if I were a quitter?
You know, life as you know it would most likely keep going for me. I can't give up. I can't quit. I have to keep going. If I didn't I'd be like all those who failed at life. I wanted to be something. I wanted to do something with my life. What? I donít know. Life was still like a fake dream. A fake dream that would never end.
Comment on it!
Want to comment on the Writing Circle generally? You can... in the guestbook or the nypo discussion board.
Now that you've read
Or try making these
Wanna submit your story? Email it to me: firstname.lastname@example.org
- Home - Jokes - Poems - Stories - Txt Msgs - Competitions - News - About - Guestbook - NYPO -