The Crazy Hen Girl

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Dear Diary,

I decided to give writing a try and write down my thoughts. I still don’t know what to do. I walk the halls of my rusty, old, worn down school every day and get called names with people telling me I’m ugly or that I’m fat or I’m too skinny, the list goes on and on. I guess I’ll save you the trouble of making you listen or read. I don’t know, I’m basically talking or writing to a book, and that brings me to what everyone calls me, “The Crazy Hen Girl.” Everyone does it, maybe it is because I live on a farm, have hens, and my last name IS hen. Aria Hen. I mean it’s not like I asked for the name. It just happened I was born with it, why would I want to change that? I mean yes, sometimes I think what it would be like to have a normal name, one nobody could make fun of. This is my story of I guess being me, “The Crazy Hen Girl.”

I walked though my old ancient school feeling hits here and there on my body from paper and wrappers being thrown at me as I try to get to my class. “Where you going, Crazy Hen?!” someone shouted. I’m pretty sure it was one of the jocks by the window or maybe it was one of the cheerleaders by the door I just walked through. I felt a stinging sensation in my eyes and that’s when I started to walk faster and faster just repeating the same thought over and over again. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. But I guess I didn’t succeed.

“Awe, is Crazy Hen crying? How about you suck it up and go back to the barn where you belong!” a student shouted from the end of the hall. I ran to my heart’s content just to get away from the shouts but what was I running from? I don’t know what I did wrong. Is this worth the fight? I thought to myself as I walked into the schools ugly, dirty bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror.

“You’re a mess,” I say quietly as I stare at the atrocious human being looking back at me. I looked at my silver hair that was once straight, it was looking like I had a silver rats nest on my head, as I work my way down my face is see my eyes. My eyes are a misty blue with tears springing out and rolling down my freckled cheeks any chance it gets, I take a chance to finally take in my appearance all together and I wonder to myself,  Why do they hate me? What have I done to them? I don’t deserve this. I try to make myself look somewhat decent before heading back out into the chaos that’s awaits me, but nothing is working. I give up after a while and go to my last class hoping to the gods above I could make it home before it gets worse.

“That class is how you make--” my teacher was cut off by the loud ringing of the schools bell. I have never ran so fast in my life, but not fast enough to block out all the laughs I hear for the students behind me. I had no clue why they were laughing at me maybe its cause I’m running? I thought as I was walking up to my beautiful house. My house is like most homes small, but not too small, wide, but not too wide. I love the colors of my house. I just want to go to sleep and for— my thoughts were cut off as I hear the yelling of my mother’s voice.

“Why can’t you get a job, and do something around the house?!” my mother yelled. I was so sure that New Orleans could hear her. I hear a shuffled tiny bang as if a book fell to the floor or a phone falling off a counter.

“I have a job, but I don’t make as much money as you,” my father replied. “I can’t keep fighting you about money Karen it’s too much.” I feel tears well up in my eyes as a powerful wind gusted over me as I push back sobs. This happens every day, I go to school, I come home, they’re fighting, and I cry more, and then I go to bed, it’s an endless cycle. I seem to always have to do the same things over and over please my parents but also try to keep my grades up, and avoid the school bullies, which to me is everyone.

Dear Diary,

It’s me again, today is the second day I write in my journal. Yesterday was a bust, I got laughed at and things thrown at me as I walked the halls of my school and my father basically told my mother if they keep fighting they’re going to get a divorce. I can’t let that happen because to be completely honest if that happens, I think that will be the event that sends me over the edge because that is the only thing keeping me strong in school. My family.

I slowly walk off the bus careful to not slip on the drenched stairs from the moister falling down, no one has said anything to me yet but maybe that is because my hood is draping over my face partly covering half so they could only see my mouth. They can’t see my outfit which is also a dead giveaway because it seems to them I wear the same clothes everyday but that’s not the case at all I just love the outfit I wear. The bittersweet feeling of not getting notices cause of my hood obviously wasn’t meant to be.

“Look here, we have Miss Crazy Hen Girl trying to hide from us,” a cheerleader says as she walks closer to my trembling body. “Now why would you hide from us? We’re your friends.”

“Yeah we’re your friends” said another cheerleader.

“N-no you’re not,” the words escape my mouth before I could stop them, now all I want to do is run home, curl into a ball, and cry.

“It speaks!” the cheerleader announced in a frantic manner as if it actually mattered that is said something back. “You think you can speak to me? What in the world gave you that idea?!” she shouted at me getting closer and closer. I could feel her hot breathe on my face. She is very formidable if you ask me.

“What is going on?” a teacher says as he looks to the cheerleader. “You, young lady get to class. Matter a fact. Everyone get to class now!” he shouts down the halls just as the late bell rings to signal we should be in class and seated. I sat seated in my uncomfortable chair in this amazingly white classroom that was full of books and scratched up desks with papers on the floor. “Are you okay Aria?” asked the teacher as I walked to get out of the class, “You seem a little diffident today.”

“O-oh no I-I’m fine” I shuddered briefly as I moved to the door and the word just repeat in my head multiple times. You seem a little diffident today. You seem a little diffident today. What does that mean? I asked myself as I walked to the library to find out. I didn’t know how long I was in the library in till I took the time to look around and admire the place. It was a beautiful library with wood shelfs and nice chairs to study at and sit comfortably as well. It was a die for library.

“Hi honey, are you looking for anything in particular?” The librarian asked as I looked around trying to find a dictionary

“I’m looking for a dictionary, I would like to find a meaning of a word.” I said properly without stuttering and jumbling my words. The lady stood up from her back desk and put away the book she was reading and came out by me That was very abnegation of her to do I was broke away from my thoughts as she asks me.

“What is the word you’re looking for honey?”

“It’s diffident.”  I replied.

“Oh sweetie,” She replied with a chuckle, “The definition of diffident is lacking self-confidence my dear. Who said that to you?”

“My teacher told me I was looking a little diffident and I didn’t understand what he meant.” I admitted as I looked down to my feet not wanting to look the lovely woman in the eyes.

“You look fine to me, just a little pinkish but that is normal when you cry,” She replied. I guess that is true. I thought to myself, but why would I— I cut off my own thoughts as I realized, how does she know I cry? “I see from the look you are giving me you want to know how I know all this. Well sweetheart, a librarian knows everything, we pay attention.” She said as I gave her a weary look.

“How do I get it to stop?” I asked as I felt tears well up in my eyes thinking of everything I’ve been through.

“It won’t stop, you just have to love yourself. Be dauntless, candor, erudite, but also be amity.”

“How?” I asked again as I heard the bell ring.

“Oh dear, you have to get to your bus. Run along now, remember what I said!” she says as she is gently pushing me out the door. As my bus dropped me off and I walk home I start to think do I love myself? “Mom, I’m home…Not that you care.” I shouted through the long blue halls

“Hi honey, me and your dad were just talking,” She replied. What?

“About?” I asked wondering what in god’s name made them have an actual conversation.

“We’ve been very feckless lately and we just want you to know that we love you and are going to try and be better from now on,” She replied. I felt as if all the air was sucked out of my lungs and I was gasping for air.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” I said as I made my way up the stairs to my room. I walked through the white door and looked around my room. Its normal I thought to myself. It has baby pink walls with a nice queen sized bed in the middle with a window to the left and a nightstand to the right. I open the nightstand compartment and grab my diary. This very book in my hands is something I am very vehement about, but I will not read back at all the memories of all those boor, and bestial people who made me feel I was nothing. That is NOT something I will live with. I put the diary in the trash, climb into bed and let the dreams of love and happiness take over. The next morning I get up out of bed and walk over to my closet, no, no, no, no……yes. I said as I look for the perfect outfit for the day I’m not going to let them bother me today. I thought as I look at myself in the mirror admiring that I even could look the way I look right now. I was wearing a nice rolling stones shirt, with ripped black jeans skinny at the leg, with some combat boots on my feet. I slowly work my way up my face, I had on a nice baby pink lip balm, with pink blush on my cheeks and contour under my cheek bones to make them pop. I did my eyes simple but sweet just a cute winged liner with a dot at the end of each wing, a nice brown base over my eyebrows filling in the small spaces and my silver hair was in nice loose curls draping over my face This is me, this is who I wanted to be and how I am going to be. No one can change that. I say to myself as I grab my bag and go out the door to my bus. We pulled up to the school in a matter of minutes as I take short gentle breathes to calm my heart beat.

“Is that Aria Hen?” I hear a student whisper as I work my way to the door of the school.

“Crazy Hen Girl?” I heard a boy ask the student. I hear the pattering of feet behind me and that’s when I knew it was the cheerleader from before.

“Who do you think you are!” she screeched as she took in my appearance in disgust. I take a deep breath.

“My name is Aria Hen, nice to meet you or if you’d like to call me Crazy Hen Girl that works too,” I said semi-confidently but I stood my ground. I’m not going to let her get to me anymore.

“Exactly! You are Crazy Hen Girl, not Cute Adorable Hen Girl! Why are you dressed like this?” she responded in a hush tone, probably to make sure no one heard her call me cute and adorable. Is that a compliment? I don’t know. I thought to myself as she looked at me with a look that could kill.

“Your opinion doesn’t bother me anymore, I gave up trying to impress you,” I said strongly.

“Excuse me?” she responds as I turn away and walk down the hall to my next class. After class the bell rings signaling us to head home. The bus ride was short as always and I walked through the door to my home on the farm.

“How was your day honey?” my mom asked me calmly.

“It was…good.” I said hesitantly and fairly happy. I work my way to my room as my mother goes to the kitchen to make dinner. I take a glance at my trash can with my diary sitting right on top. I hesitantly take it out of the trash and grab a pencil and start writing.

Dear Diary,

I’m back again, I’m sorry for throwing you away. I thought that you would remind me of all the horrible things I’ve been through and in some way you do but I see that differently now. You do remind me of the horrible things I’ve been through but I see it as you remind me of all the things I fought and have overcome as well. Thank you, that is all I have to say and for now on….I’m going to be myself. The Crazy Hen Girl.

Submitted: November 15, 2016

© Copyright 2021 kayla67. All rights reserved.

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