Hey guys! So here's the thing: I got this idea for a story last night when I was about to go to sleep. THEN I stated DREAMING it! Well, sadly, I woke up in the middle of the dream. So now I'm going to write that dream and continue it in my own story! It's about a girl who has a disorder and is not very well liked. The characters are incredibly OOC. NOW READ, BANANAS! REAAAAADD. If you review, follow or favourite I will love you FOREVER! :D
I never was particularly liked. But I can't exactly blame them for not liking me. I'm not even sure that I like myself. Of course, I know everything could be A LOT worse, I just don't care. My life sucks, and nobody but I know it. You see, I was born with this disorder. An anxiety/fear disorder. It makes me crazy sometimes. It makes me hallucinate. Like I'm not even there…I'm not one to complain a lot, but if I could, I would tell everyone everything and they would all pity me and love me and be happy that I haven't killed myself, yet…but what you don't realize, what you don't get is: I can't. I can't talk. I mustn't. I mustn't say anything or they'll come back…the dreams. The nightmares. They'll all come back to haunt me once more. And there's nothing I can do about it. Let me start from the beginning. My name is Maka Albarn. I've been on medication for my whole life. I go to therapy twice a week, and I go see a doctor once a week. Not many people at my school like me, because of the way my medication makes me, but I can deal with that. Sometimes I feel like I'm as bad as Crona, but usually I tell myself not to feel that much self-pity. The girls and boys at school, they're all douche bags. I hate people. I'd like to be alone. But alas, that'll only bring them back. My mother tells me to bring as much attention to the bullies as possible, that way they'll stop, but it only seems to make matters worse. I have a list of insults and comebacks in my notebook. I read them off whenever they try to talk to me. That's why I'm not liked.
"You're fat, Maka!"
"I may be fat, but you're ugly, and I can go on a diet."
"I kissed my girlfriend a couple minutes ago. You don't have a boyfriend, do you Maka?"
"A pretty girl can kiss a guy; a bird can kiss a butterfly. The rising sun can kiss the grass; but you. Yes, you. YOU can kiss my ass!"
"You're such an ugly little whore."
"Right now I'm sitting here, trying to see your point of view, but I can't fit my head that far up my ass."
I've got good comebacks, don't I? They sometimes work, but usually they just bring up more problems. That's when you have to use a rhetorical question like,
"How dumb are you?" or
"Hold on a second, just…give me a minute here. Who's a whore? 'Cause…last time I checked, I was a virgin."
And sometimes even that doesn't work. So then I just stop talking. And then I just stare at the top of their head to make them think that their hair is fucked up or something. Let me tell you my story, now. Hush, take a seat. It's going to be awhile.
The doctor eyed me, head to toe, and tapped her chin with a pen.
"Well, do you want to start on medication?" she asked, lowering her eyes on my mother's worried face.
"She's already on medication. I told you that!" my mother exclaimed. I sat and stared, like I usually do when we're at the doctor's.
"Then she should start therapy," she offered, scribbling something down on that stupid yellow pad of paper she's always swinging around, "there's really not much we can do to help."
"Fine. Therapy it is. Let's go, Maka," my mom said, and helped me off the chair. I was weak, and I needed help just to walk. We decided that we could drive to the therapist's office every Tuesday and Friday. Thursdays we would come back to the doctor's. I was already on ADD meds and ADHD meds and Acid Reflux meds and Anxiety meds and Asthma meds and allergy meds and a COUNTLESS amount of vitamins. I really hoped I wouldn't have to add to the list. Oh, and I forgot. There is one SPECIAL vitamin I have to take for my liver. Who knows what day it'll give out, my school nurse always says. They like to scare me like that.
We went home, and stopped for ice cream on the way. Sometimes, even chocolate fudge ripple and rainbow sprinkles can't stop you from crying on the inside. Not on the outside. I don't cry anywhere except therapy. I refuse to make a fool of myself.
When we got home, my mom let me play Nintendo until it was bed time.
Bed time, the WORST part of my day.
I had to look into the mirror, smile, look under the bed, smile, check my mom's mirror, smile, check the closet, smile, get into bed, and stop smiling. That was my daily bed time routine. Then my mom would come in, kiss my forehead and say, "goodnight, I'll see you in the morning!" For some reason, I need that reassurance. But that night wasn't right, and I could tell something was wrong. I looked behind me, and nothing was there. I looked at the mirror, and it was still my face. Then I started hallucinating. I started screaming and crying and finally my mom came in and gave me some more medicine. I talked to her and cried for a little bit until my nerves were finally calmed, and my wavelength was back to normal. Then I went to bed, and fell asleep in the light of my lamp. But I had the nightmare again. That nightmare. It still gives me the chills.
I'd be at my grandma's house, happily watching this woman I didn't even know and some girl from school who didn't even mean anything to me fix the porch. The woman was fat, and she had blonde hair. The girl didn't do much in the dream. But then, the woman would go ballistic! She would chase me through the house until she finally had me cornered and locked in the bathroom. Then she'd say these ridiculous and crazy things! It made her sound like she was just a little confused girl! She'd say, "Why do you hate me? I haven't done ANYTHING to you!" Or, "Maka, please help me…" or even, "Maka, I know you're in there, please come out!" Then I would open the door a crack, and she'd grab me by the throat and kill me!
Then I went to therapy the next day and explained everything to the specialist. The specialist asked to know everything about me, so I told her all that I knew. I told her a lot about the one girl who I hate more than anybody. The therapist really wanted to know about her. So I told her all about her, and finally, the therapist said this to me:
"Maka, maybe that woman in your dream was saying all of the things you want to say to her. And maybe she did the things that you want to do to her."
And after that, I stopped having the dream. It was just, *poof!*gone! And that's why I love therapy. My anxiety decreased after that day, and now all I have to do before bed in look in the mirror, smile, and go to sleep under the covers. (With the lights on, of course.) I still get scared sometimes, but then I tell myself that everything's okay, and that, after high school is over, life will be much better! I'm a little concerned with being alone all the time, though. I got taken off of the anxiety medicine, because ever since I started going to therapy, I stopped having the anxiety attacks. All I needed was an explanation for why I was how I was, and I got that through therapy. So now I'm fine, and I've been taken off of the one medicine that made me act the way I did. So now I act like a normal, civilized human being who people actually like! And sure, I still have that insult list in my notebook because come on, they're pretty good. So I guess you could call this a happy ending! I guess!
Whoop! There it is! Did you guys like it?! I thought it was very uplifting! You guys, just keep in mind: it could ALWAYS be worse! You could be Crona! Just remember that. Love you all! OH! And I actually do have a list of insults! They're right below this end-note-thingy. I got it from a bunch of different websites, so I didn't come up with them. :) Toodles!
-I called your boyfriend gay and he hit me with his purse!
-Roses are red violets are blue, God made me pretty, what the hell happen to you?
-Right now I'm sitting here looking at you trying to see things from your point of view but I can't get my head that far up my ass.
-A pretty girl can kiss a guy, a bird can kiss a butterfly, the rising sun can kiss the grass, but you my friend! Yes you! YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!
-If you didn't have feet you wouldn't wear shoes...then why do you wear a bra?!
-Mirrors don't talk but lucky for you they don't laugh
-People like you are the reason I'm on medication.
-Don't piss me off today, I'm running out of places to hide to bodies
-Don't let your mind wander. It's way too small to be outside by itself!
-I had a nightmare. I dreamt I was you.
-I need you...I want you...To get out of my face
-Everyone is entitled to be stupid, but you abuse the privilege.
-I am not anti-social...I just don't like you
-If you're gonna act like a dick you should wear a condom on your head so you can at least look like one!
-Hmm...I don't know what your problem is...but I'm going to bet it's really hard to pronounce...
-I may be fat, but you're ugly, and I can go on a diet!
-Earth is full. Go home.
-Oh dear! Looks like you fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down!
-Don't hate me because I'm beautiful hate me because your boyfriend thinks so.
-God made mountains, god made trees, god made you but we all make mistakes.
-Remember JESUS loves you but everyone else thinks you're an idiot.
-Beauty is skin deep, but ugly is to the bone
-Let's see, I've walked the dog, cleaned my room, gone shopping and gossiped with my friends...Nope, this list doesn't say that I'm required to talk to you.
-Forget the ugly stick! You must have been born in the ugly forest!
-Cry me a river so I can DROWN YOU IN IT!
-You have your whole life to be a jerk...so why don't you take a day off?
-If I cared about your opinion that would've offended me.
-If ignorance is bliss, you must be the happiest person alive!