Sarah [a short story]

Note: This is a fictional write inspired by a multitude of things. Enjoy. Leave your thoughts in the comment section :) 

"Sarah"

I'm trying to hold on, but every time anyone pisses me off or hurts me, it confirms that I, indeed, do not belong. My parents don't get it, they never have. We are from two different worlds. I don’t know how they were raised, but I’m pretty certain part of being a parent is being involved in your child’s life. But, what do I know? I'm just fifteen.

Taylor Swift wrote a song; it was titled fifteen. She is a cunt. She doesn’t know what I’m going through. Love? What the hell is that? No guy has ever even looked at me. I am basically invisible at my school.

Friends are nice...When you have some. I have exactly one. God bless her soul. She is a nice girl, but she is way too happy way too often. All she does is smile and go on about her happy life. She talks about her family and siblings and trips and cousins and all kinds of stuff. What do I have to talk about? Oh yeah, pretending I'm okay when in reality I’m not.

I have a younger brother, Timmy, but he's only four. He doesn’t matter. He can’t talk to me or talk me out of anything. I’ve written several suicide notes before. You, reading, probably have formed some kind of opinion about me. I’m annoying, stupid, and taking life for granted. Well, let me explain why my life sucks so incredibly much.

At seven, my parents split. Why? Because my dad beat my mom. She got out, she was lucky. What did she do after? Beat me. Why? To get her anger out. Or as she claims, "discipline." What do you do to a seven-year-old when they get a "S" for satisfaction on a homework assignment versus an "E" for excellent...? Clearly, you beat them.

There used to be this juice she had and I called it her special juice. It made her happy and hug me, at first. Then after one viewing of Lion King the bitch came out. She would beat me and chase me around the house with various items to hurt me with. Coat hangers, irons, wooden spoons, shoes, batteries, cable cords...the list can go on. When people at school asked me what's wrong I would always just say I fell down a lot. How fucking cliché, right? I learned to hide it better when I was twelve, and in middle school. I met Sarah there.

Sarah is an angel. She's the only friend I have. Her dad is an attorney and her mother is a realtor, Sarah obviously comes from money. She always has the nicest clothes and the nicest perfume and everything about her makes me wonder why the fuck she is friends with someone like me? What did I ever do or have that deserves this kind of friend? Sarah takes me out with her family and wants to always snap photos of us. She listens to me whine and complain about everything and always gives me the best advice. I almost want to be her, sometimes.

We're freshmen and she was offered a spot on the cheerleading click, but rejected the offer. I was thinking why even try out? She said she only wanted to know if she was good enough, and that was enough for her. When they wanted her, she made up some excuse about scheduling with her job that doesn’t even exist. I really admire Sarah and her perfect life.

Sometimes I wish she had something, ANYTHING to complain about...but she doesn't. People say no one is perfect, but those people clearly don't know Sarah. She's perfect in every way. Guys love her, girls want to be her friend, her parents adore the shit out of her, her younger sister and older brother get along with her. I just can’t take how perfect someone can be.

My self-esteem is obviously low, close to zero. I always get mad at Sarah in hopes of her being mad back at me so we can end our friendship. Even though I love her, I know one day she is going to run off to some fancy college with new friends and I will be stuck in this boring, pathetic, city of nothing. Why not just do us a favor and make it easy? We can stop being friends now. My plans never work; she is never mad. Never upset and never rude or mean.

I wish I had known the real Sarah, though. The one that took her last breath. Literally, she took it away from herself. I guess the happiest of people are the greatest actors. I miss Sarah.

-s