Azrael

3

I had friends in high school. The type of friends everyone would have wanted. The kind of friends I could share secrets with... The kind of friends I went to for comfort or watched movies with. That was what friendship should have been.

And then I was snapped back, or yanked back (rather rudely might I add) to reality. The pain from the crash landing was quite unbearable but interestingly bittersweet. I expected to resent them for keeping their deceit up for so long. For making me feel like they truly cared about me. But I didn't. I just blamed it on myself. Which was the logical thing to do anyway.

Once upon a time, I was one to care about people's impressions about me... And they seemed to have a never ending list of problems with me. (Trust me I know)

My class girls were all prettier than me, with their figure eight bodies, and their long braided attachments that reached their butts, swishing side to side as they walked. Even their own hair was long. Guys walked up to them often trying to get their numbers or at least their attention. They only paid mind of the ones that caught their fancy.

The girls were well known for pointing out the flaws of other girls. The ones that weren't lucky to be perfect. I was one of those girls. "Your hips aren't wide enough! Why are you so flat? Why is your hair so short? Why don't you make your attachments long?"

They would make you wish you looked so much better. Were so much better. The teachers had their hands full with them.

The girls would blatantly give the teachers "attitude", not really caring about the consequences. Rolling their eyes, hissing or chewing gum and bursting the bubbles loudly, to show their were highly disinterested, or were convinced what the teacher was saying was absolute rubbish to them.

I didn't think they were bullies though, I just thought they were trying to help me. No, they weren't bullies. The real bullies were the ones that toyed with my feelings knowingly. Knowing how I felt and using it against me. Knowing things about me and using them to insult me. Making me feel like I wasn't worth more than the dirt beneath their shoes. Scum, was what I was.
They ignored me most days and I ignored them too, but I never did anything about what they said to me.

As I grew up however, I had begun to try to convince myself that I didn't really care what they thought of me. I mean, so I dressed weird, let them talk, so I wore glasses, let them talk, so I hated people, let them talk, it's not that they were going to lynch me for it.

Israel was ... well ... Israel. He was one of the cool kids. He said hi to me on occasion. He could be really annoying but he at least treated me like a person.

Everyone else treated me weird. Like they didn't know how to treat me or they'd rather not relate with me. Or they just ignored my existence.