All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Without you, there is no point in me.
Ryver is a young girl who has dealt with being alone nearly her whole life. Her best friend, Cree, died in a tragic car accident 4 months ago. Her death is taking a toll on her, and has nobody to turn to. Aside from her best friend dying, she is bullied in school and often thinks of suicide. With the struggles of being alone and bullied, she turns to drugs and nearly looses everything her promising future had in store for her. Of course, she meets a boy. Will this boy help her find her path? What will Ryver do? Chapter 1: Plastic I awoke this morning to an obnoxious sound. This sound was familiar, and it seemed to grow louder the more I neglected it. Of course, I didn’t want to crawl out of the warmth of my bed. Scanning my room, I managed to find the sound, which I discovered to be my alarm clock, yanked it out of the socket, and chucked it across the room leaving shards of broken plastic strewn about my floor.
Pleased with myself, I wrapped up into the warmth of my blanket and tried to think of sleepy thoughts so I could drift back into my peaceful somber. Then it dawned on me-- There was no way in hell I was going to get to sleep in today because I had a meeting with my principle, teachers and of course, my mother. I moaned in disappointment as I blew a kiss towards my pillow. I reminded myself that our departure was only temporary and I’d be back by night.
Sleep was my only friend these days. I was a loser. The only time kids would talk to me was to copy my work. I was a straight A student and I was nowhere close to an athlete. I don’t have a body that looks like something I pick my teeth with and for that I was often called fat. Now, I may have low self-esteem, but I definitely know I am NOT fat. It’s fluff. Most people would call it average, but where I come from, girls with bleach blonde hair, overly tanned skin, and bodies that looked like toothpicks, were average.
I am far from average. My days consisted of reading books, petting my cat, and of course sleep. That was my life. I rarely talked to my family, even though I see them everyday. I didn’t spend hours on end in a tanning bed, burning my skin orange. I had my own category—different. I stuck to myself because I liked it that way.
To me those girls painted orange were not real. They were hard--- shiny, plastic. Practically Barbie dolls. They only cared about what people had to think about them. If they knew the truth about how I felt, I’d probably be hanging from the flagpole in my undergarments. However, I’m too much of a coward and would never say what I truly felt to those horrible, horrible people. One day I would though. I plan on being the difference in this small, stupid southern Minnesota town. Of course those are just plans, and will never be turned into reality. I was told I could do whatever I want as a kid. But as I grew older, I realized that what I wanted to be as a child were nowhere close to reality. It was impossible to change a town of people. It was crazy to think that someone might actually have good intentions, and would listen to what I have to say. After all, in their eyes I was a loser.
I was no longer warm. The cold air penetrated me and left my skin covered in goose bumps. I was missing my warm comfortable bed already, and was contemplating if I should skip the meeting while I sleep instead. It sounded so much better.
I was insane for even letting myself think that. My mother would not let that one fly. She wanted me to get help almost as if she wants me to forget what happened. But I can’t. The wound was too fresh, going back to school while being forced to see the faces of the idiots who had killed my best friend, made my knees weak. I wasn’t ready to see the fake tears streaming down their pathetic faces. They didn’t know her like I did. They only want the attention. Like the rest of this god forsaken town. I often wondered, “Why couldn’t they take me instead?” She was innocent and had such a bright future ahead of her. I had nothing. I was the loser. Chapter Notes: (I'm still working on this so please don't be too harsh! & I would most certainly appreciate feedback!!)
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 1 comment.