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Special
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TITLE (EDIT)
Special |
DESCRIPTION
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[1,338 words] |
AUTHOR
Pearl S |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
I'm a teenager; I like to write, play music, and read old English manuscripts.
[November 2002] |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (14)
Everything's Routine (Essays) The frightening realization that people live their entire lives like gerbils running in their wheels, and sometimes come away empty-handed. [662 words]
Makes No Difference (Poetry) Not the Sum 41 song. [120 words]
Not Who I'm Supposed To Be (Poetry) I said it was poetry but it isn't really. I don't know what to call it, but it's the feeling you get when everyone knows you should be more than you are and they're right. [373 words]
Nothing Much (Poetry) - [328 words]
Snowing In April (Songs) - [346 words]
Sounds Of Silence And What I Can't Say (Poetry) - [358 words]
The Cool Clique (Short Stories) I actually did some reasearch for this, interviewed a few older friends... they don't understand it anymore than I do. [837 words]
The Masochist Boy (Novels) A neglected teenager confronts his addiction and depression with the help of an insecure friend. [35,178 words] [Teenage]
The Waves (Songs) - [160 words]
Watch Out, Henry! There's A Hole In That There Bucket! (Short Stories) The English Essay I Had Way Too Much Fun Writing. [4,772 words] [Teenage]
We Are Connected By A Net Of Faith (Songs) I guess the title doesn't say much, but this is my feeling about the coming war with Iraq. [296 words]
White Washed Walls, A Collection (Poetry) Acollection of verse: White Washed Walls: Something that came to me while I was sitting by my window... it was a bitter kind of day. Empty Wind-blown Streets: Pieced together from different hospital... [707 words]
Why I Got High, Ran Away, And Just Generally Screwed Myself Up (Poetry) A thought that popped into my head today. I think it might actually explain something. I don't know, I just want it to be out there. [34 words]
'ms. America' (Songs) If Ms. America was a typical American woman... [287 words]
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Special
Pearl S
Hey. I’m Amy. What’s up?
You may have heard of me. I’m guessing not. Most people haven’t. There’s nothing special about me. I can’t paint or draw, I can’t play guitar well enough to be in a band, I’m not funny, I’m not popular, and I’m not drugged up. Yet. I like to think I can write, but my writing is all cliché…I just don’t seem to have an original idea in that averaged little head of mine. Not enough imagination? I always thought I had too much of that…
I’m getting ahead of myself, though. I don’t want to scare you. You understand that, right? It’s just I haven’t talked to anyone in so long…and not anyone like you. You look like you might even be willing to listen. I don’t know what I should do. I don’t know how to impress you. I don’t know if that’s even what’s at stake…anyway, just…please forgive me if I mess up my words. Yeah, that was my point.
Ok. Ok. Right, you didn’t just call me for chit-chat. No one does. No one calls me, I have to run after them. But you called about my question, so here it is:
What do you do if no one notices you, because you’re so boring and unoriginal and clichéd that no one wants to waste time on you?
I’ve been trying for years and I can’t figure it out. Everyone is made special, right? They all say that. The teachers say it, the community people say it, the parents say it. They all do. But I’m not special. I’m not talented, I’m not smart, I’m not interesting. And everyone says that everyone has the same problem, but it seems like I’m the only one. And I am. Did you know that I saw eighty-six kids my age today and they were all walking with friends or boyfriends or girlfriends? None of them were alone. They were all wearing the same pair of jeans, the same turtlenecks, the same tight shirts and blonde-dyed bedhead hair. I looked and looked and looked for another chunky girl with frizzy brown hair in a baseball jersey…and I couldn’t find one. I looked for a glum-faced boy without a designer label on his pants sitting alone on a bench…and I couldn’t find him either.
It’s not fair. If the normal thing is for everyone to have friends, and I can’t do anything unoriginal for the life of me, then why shouldn’t it work both ways? If I’m doomed to be the same as everyone, then why can’t I at least have the same kind of life? If I have go through the exact same routine, shouldn’t I get the same results? Shouldn’t I be hanging out at the mall with all of my friends in cute little outfits instead of scribbling furiously into a little black notebook that no one will read because no one cares?
And if I have to stand out like a sore thumb…where are my plus signs? Where’s the spark of imagination in my eyes, where’s the beauty in my poetry, where’s the brilliance in my schoolwork? Where’s that little glowing gem that makes me seem interesting and unique for all my differences, makes people remember me, but not just as ‘the one that didn’t quite fit’?
My family says I have too much time on my hands. They say I should work on developing the normal relationships I already have. They are assuming I have normal relationships, but I don’t. I have charge-per-use relationships.
For example: A boy calls me about a party (!) and begs me (!) to get a ride ( ?) for him and his girlfriend (). But there’s a catch, because once I set that up, the boy, being only human, begins to feel guilty about ‘using’ me, and thus is forced to pretend to be interested in me for as long as he can. Running record: three phone calls. Record breakers? Not likely.
Or in a different case: A girl who has never said a phrase to me that didn’t begin with “Can I have…” returns three broken cds, a nickel from the five bucks I lent her, and the plastic bag from my sandwich, which she on second thought decided not to eat because bread has carbohydrates. Being only human, she feels guilty about breaking my things. So she invites me to hang out with her on Thursday night. Twenty minutes later, a boy she spoken to twice in her life calls and asks her to a movie on Thursday. Call me back when it’s convenient for you! Trust me, I’ll be waiting!
What am I supposed to do? Is there even anything that can be done. Do I sit up half the night waiting for a boy to call me, only to forget, call me the next day so he can say hello and awkwardly sit on the phone for five minutes, not saying anything, until his conscience allows him to hang up?
Do I decide not to go to the library that night in case a girl needs to call me for help with the math she didn’t pay attention to in class because her and her clique were having too much fun passing notes about all the fun things they’re doing next week to pay attention to the math they can get from the loser writing geek in the corner when it better fits their schedule anyway?
Or (and this is the best) do I decide not to sit up waiting, clamber into bed, and proceed to spend the entire night lying awake wondering what would happen if they did call and I fell asleep, and wake up the next morning bitter at myself for not ‘developing normal relationships’ by waiting for their call.
I’m not bitter or jaded. I wish I was. It sucks when you go through the same thing over and over again and each time you’re as unprepared and naïve as Little Red Riding Hood skipping off to Granny’s. It’s like somebody keeps dropping me on my head, and I don’t have the brains to learn anything from it. Plus it hurts that much more when the high hopes I’ve built get cut down with razor blades.
If I was special and interesting, I wouldn’t have this problem. I’d have friends and admirers from all over. We’d hang out every night and laugh at the losers calling every unnoticed girl they can think of for rides for them and their girlfriends.
And if I was just like everyone else, I wouldn’t either have this problem. I’d have friends and boyfriends and cute TJ Max clothing with words on the shirts and bell bottom jeans. We’d be too busy having fun and doing whatever ‘normal’ teenagers to do to worry about if we were ‘normal’ or not.
But I’m not either of these. I haven’t got the self-respect the unique individuals do and I haven’t got the spunk and glamor the prototype teenagers have. All I can do is nod my head (and shake it, right? But I don’t know how to say no.) All I can do is screw things up for myself, and get suckered into the same junk time and time again because let’s face it, that’s my lot in life, isn’t it? They say everyone has my problem, but they’re lying.
I know I’ve been talking for a long time. If you have anything to add…if you have a solution…please, go ahead…
Beep. Beep. Beep.
And sure enough, you’ve hung up. Haven’t you? And when I walk past you in the street tomorrow, you’ll act very concerned about it I imagine. After all, because you have everything I don’t doesn’t mean you also lack shame.
But you won’t call me back tonight. And if I call you…I’ll get your answering machine. You won’t pick up my calls.
I won’t bother you. I hate bothering people.
Funny how nobody seems to mind bothering me.
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READER'S REVIEWS (2)
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"Don't sell yourself short Pearl. Seems with a sharp mind like you have things will get better. Maybe not tomorrow but maybe the next day or the next. One thing is for certain, being a doormat won't help. Good luck. Like the feeling in this." -- Just A Guy.
"Thanks...I sat down and wrote it after some loser treated me like trash and hung up on me, bkz i'm hoping some one out there can relate to it. He did apologize later though...thereby assuring that I'll get suckered into the same routine next time. " -- pearl.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2003 Pearl S |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
January 2003 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2387
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