THAT Girl

You probably do not remember me. On second thought, you probably remember one thing about me. Or more correctly, one thing that you think you knew about me.

Yes, I am THAT girl. Oh, now you remember me? That’s it! I’m the one what sat at the back of the class, row three. I drew those pictures – the ones that you tore up because you thought they weren’t good enough. I spent hours, put in effort into those drawings, only to have you rip them up. I cried that day. No, that doesn’t mean that I am weak. But yes, I cried – all day.

Yes, I see it in your eyes. You remember me now. Yes! The one who wrote those poems that you thought were “too depressing”. You tore one of those up too. I spent my afternoon fixing it. I picked up each and every piece that you threw to the ground, and taped them back together. You thought it would no longer serve me a purpose, but you were wrong.

It was a song, you know - about love, about peace, about happiness – and when you tore that sheet of paper up, in a way, I guess you tore me a bit. You see, those words on the page were not a love story, they were a dream. It’s not a secret that I didn’t have the popularity or the guy. It’s not a secret that I wasn’t happy either. I guess the worst part is that the whole school knew my pain, and yet you found joy in bringing me more. Naturally, they stood by and watched as I was humiliated, again and again.

I guess now it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore. After I stuck those pieces of paper back together, I put music to the lyrics. Nobody ever heard that song - Nobody, except for me. I guess if the truth be told, that’s the only person it was ever really intended for.

Don’t you do that! Do not start crying. I will not sympathise with you. I will not comfort you. I’m not doing it out of spite – you taught me a valuable lesson that I must only look within myself to find happiness. You taught me to stop the tears myself and I intend to now teach you that same lesson. It will benefit you, I promise.

You know, I even remember what day it was, the day when you told me that I would fail. It was a Wednesday when you told me that I would always be “lesser”, that I could never be anything worthwhile or of importance. I guess you were right. I’m not a doctor, therefore I don’t save lives. I’m not an artist, therefore I don’t bring colour into people’s world. I do not entertain people; I am not an idol for anyone. But no, sweetheart, that does not mean that I have failed. You may not see it, but I do. I see the sunlight when I open my eyes. I see the blue skies and the green grass. I hear the birds and the dogs in the park across the road from my house.

I’m not perfect, I’m not whole, but I am happy.