Reminiscing

  I'm dejected.

      Life is hard for me. It's because I'm lonely. And cheap, and not

terribly attractive.

  Look! There goes yet another person. He didn't even bother to look my way! I even had my flattering side showing. Y'know, I used to count the people as they passed by me, ignoring me. I stopped shortly after two hundred and fifty. But it's okay ... There'll be someone, someday. But even if I do get chosen, I can already hear what the others will say. "Oh, her? She's useless. Cheap, too." I can hear the tone - raspy, like linen on silk, with a sophisticated hauteur. All I've ever wanted is to be held, felt, used.

     I don't demand much from life, but it's wretched, feeling this useless. Where I came from, everyone had a purpose: those that made things, made things, while those that stitched, stitched. But me? I'm useless and ugly. A pariah.

 Oh my god! He looked at me! He looked at me! Damn ... Ah well. He was a good height, but a bit young for my tastes. Quiet, restless disappointment, quiet.

     See, this place is dull. Crazy dull. Someone else might find it interesting, but it drives me mad. Everyone else here is such horrible company, except for the constant, muttering stream of people that wander in and out on a daily basis, and they're no use; not one of them has yet to lay eyes on me. I had a friend earlier, Mauve, but she was rather attractive and left quickly. Such is life for us; I guess.

I really do long for home, the more I think of it. I miss the bright lights, the clean-swept tile floors, the constant activity, the bustle. It's too quiet here for me in the evenings; the doors open at 8 and close at 10, leaving my nights in hushed silence as Security sweeps by with his flashlight, angry eyes searching for anyone or anything out line. My days are left in an equally oppressive, chaotic murmur. My new home here reeks of must and mildew, and anything I say is absorbed by the overly thick carpet squares and those snide commentators hanging around me. But maybe I could stand this place, if only I had a nicer bit of real estate. I'm afraid of being evicted, kicked out and shipped away to God only knows where.

  And yet I maintain hope. I hope that someone, my handsome prince, will come and rescue me, because I've been thinking lately of escaping from it all. I spend every day hanging on for not-so-dear life, and I can't stand this clothing bargain rack.

   I've heard that closets are infinitely more comfortable.

  And so I'll wait for the right man. I am strong; strong enough to hold onto my hanger until he comes.

  Although, I hope he chooses me soon, because Black Friday is up ahead.

By Ashton

Rickards High School, 10^th grade