Searching to be seen

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic


You don't have to make yourself be seen, those who truly care will see you.

Submitted: February 16, 2018

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Submitted: February 16, 2018

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Stars shot down from the sky and froze in perfect alignment, each over powering the next. A backwards frenzy that yanked the streets out of darkness exposing streams and swarms of perfect Barbie’s and boisterous Kens. All the same and none alone. Travelling in packs, it was impossible to get ones attention, until, I realised that I was invisible to them. Their pristine faceless faces lacked all emotion and expression when I pulled them to face me. The rest would chitter and chatter and mock and laugh. Names surfed across their lips. Then not multiple, but one… just one name… my name. It whispered like a hiss across the mass of monsters. Not so much a hiss now but a calling, a voice finally ringing true. But every time I tried to locate this voice I was drawn back into the block of expectations and leagues and narcissistic ideals. Bodies merged and collided whilst the world spun and colours faded. I looked the other way and colours pulsed back into existence, whilst the spinning changed direction, lights flickered and bodies screamed; my ears popped and eyes exploded with perfect dresses and perfect looks and perfect ways. Yet I did nothing but continue trying to get someone to notice me. What would you do? I bet I did it all- every thing and any thing. And for what? Blank faces. In one last futile attempt; I screamed.

All colours faded except for one- as bright as the sun and all things like it. The spinning slowed down and things simply oved out of focus. Admits the calming transition is when I saw him. A brown haired boy, my age, dressed in the only colour left in the world. I’ve seen him before but couldn’t remember where or when. He smiled at me and I opened my eyes.

There in the quiet hours of the morning, in the safety of my bedroom, I woke up to see the perfect outfit laid out, my perfect makeup of extensive measures and a bottle I had come to depend on that read: Monaxiá Letum, aged 17, condition: depression. Today I will put that bottle in the bin, I will throw away the perfect clothes and instead wear a baggy yellow jumper. Today I will wear no make up. Today I will just be me!


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