or when words hardly penetrate one's skin.
my feet dragged everywhere i went, save the track during gym. i finished with time to spare, but who even gave a damn. i surely did not. everything was hazy, was dim, was blank.
i wondered if that was how people would remember me. the girl who couldn't stay in the moment, who couldn't keep her head tied to her body, who couldn't breathe anything but shades of gray, couldn't paint in color.
'yet she still ends up at the top,' a nagging voice reminded me. 'fucking valedictorian.'
i realized, as i read my book, how they all were hypocrites in accordance with what they thought of me. to many, i was the smart girl. some of these were the same people that called me a bitch, thought me a complete jerk.
maybe i am. maybe i am a soulless bitch who can't be anything but a burden to anyone i come across. maybe i can't help it. maybe i'm just not wren anymore. maybe she took the high dive and shattered.
and though jade tried to be kind, to compliment my voice during musical rehearsal, she couldn't change that the wren from a year ago had morphed into something no one liked to see - not even me.
ESTÁ A LER
Smart Girl
Não ficçãothoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
