Do you remember the days of elementary school? When no one was weird, or different, or ostracized for being themselves. The days when you could look at a person and not think anything negative about them. When everyone still believed their parents want they told them they could be a star or the president.
I would give anything to have those days back.
Walking through the school hallways, I look around at what people look like and mentally label them. You can judge me all you want but it's the society we live in. That girl over there is always the pretty one. That one will never get someone to ask her to prom. That boy will never get above a C+ in a general level class. Though I have always hated labels and judgements, I know that I am no better than the judges or the labelers. I can't help it. We always judge someone's looks before their personality. It's just how our world works. There is no avoiding it or sugarcoating it.
Take me, for example. I tend to wear a lot of jeans and baggy tees or hoodies with converse or boots. I don't think I've worn a skirt since the seventh grade. I am a junior with about as little confidence as a junior has, made noticeable by my lack of eye contact in the hallways or during conversation. To be honest, I doubt most people know my name and I have gone to the same school as them for at least three years. My platinum blond hair is always in a ponytail, a bun, or a braid, never down. My hair is probably my only memorable quality. My glasses hide my blue eyes and my makeup-less face. All in all, I'm considered plain, forgettable. That is my label, when given. Nothing.
If I am ever noticed, it's never good attention. When people talk to me, it is usually just to torment me. My worst tormentor is the most popular, and attractive (though I hardly ever notice because he is such an asshole), guy in the school. One might think that if I get his attention, I must get noticed by others, but it seems that the way he treats me just encourages others to ignore my existence.
Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear, I think to myself as I see Jack approaching my locker. Yep, my bully is Jack Frost. Every girl thinks he's dreamy just because he has this really unnaturally white hair and crystal blue eyes. Even I have to admit to myself that while he is repulsive to me, I can see where they are all coming from. Without looking at me, Jack shoves me into my locker with his shoulder. No body laughs or even looks my way, but it is still embarrassing.
I will always wonder what happened to my favorite person ever.