Any Other Girl
Miranda was just like any other girl, on the outside at least. She was medium height, with long straight hair and dark brown eyes. She danced, and sang, and loved to read. She went to parties on Fridays, and slept in on Saturdays. But Miranda was far from normal. Miranda had a secret that she didn't tell anyone.
Miranda was a mental wreck. She didn't like the way she looked, she didn't trust anyone, and she felt out of place even with her most trusted and loyal friends.
Miranda didn't know why she felt the way she did, and she couldn't shake her feelings. Sometimes, things would get so overwhelming, her head would swim with all the problems she could concieve. Mean names she had been called, even years before would echo in her head, a never-ending call on her flaws. Miranda hated it when this happened. At times like this, she could only lie on her bed, eyes closed, and listen to her mind put her down.
But Miranda learned to cope with her problems. She didn't eat so she would be skinnier, and thus prettier. She didn't get close to anyone, and started ignoring her friends. That way, she couldn't get close enough to anyone to trust them. The only person she could really trust was herself.
And when Miranda couldn't handle the onslaught of emotions, she cut her thighs to release it all and bring herself back to earth.
As the months went on, Miranda became more and more alone. Her friends gave up on trying to talk to her, and left her alone. She became so thin she needed all of her dance costumes refitted. Because she didn'tt eat, she had no energy, and she began to be put further and further into the back in dance shows, when before she was always the girl in the front with all the solos. Her legs became scarred with the lines of her pain. She couldn't wear skirts or shorts, and hid herself within baggy sweaters and jeans.
Eventually, Miranda lost all interest in everything she had previously loved. She stopped dancing, she couldn't focus on a book, and she had no friends to party with. She slept all the time, and was too lifeless when she was awake to do anything but listen to her music.
No one noticed Miranda's tranformation. Her parents worked all day, and came home at night to pick up their other children and run them to their activities. They trusted that Miranda was just fine, she always had been before. They believed her when she said she quit dance to focuse on school, and belived her when she lied about her grades.
One day, Miranda couldn't take it any more. Her parents were out with her siblings; Miranda was alone in the house.
She snuck upstairs, and went into her parents medicine cabinet. She took out her father's heart pills, and poured half of the full bottle into her hand.
She went into her room, and shut the door. She didn't bother to lock it; no one would be home for hours. She put the smooth pills in her mouth; they felt like little pebbles, rolling over her teeth. She washed them down with a glass of lime Smirnoff, her favourite drink from a million years ago, when she used to party.
She lay down on her bed with her iPod in her ears, listening to her favourite song.
"I feel like a loser,"
Her eyes began to drift shut. She was so tired…
"I feel like I'm lost,"
Numbness washed over her body. She was so used to feeling nothing but pain, and it was welcome.
"I feel like I'm not sure if I feel anything at all."
As her eyes finally drifted shut, and unconsciousness washed over her, Miranda whispered "Finally…"
Those were her last words.