Story 30

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Victim wasn't your ordinary girl, no. According to a book, she was part of the 1% of peoples that were Asexual (felt no attractivness towards male or female relationships). Her sexuality didn't seem like much, but barely anyone knew, including her best friends. When Victim was driven to school she was half-relieved to get away from her mother (they yelled a lot), but half distraught. Her friends had a running joke about how Victim and one of her best friend's internet friends were engaged. She had gotten a beautiful silver ring for Christmas, and when she had started wearing it the teasing had started. Their plans for the "wedding," and any joke at all, really, made Victim feel like they were trying to make her feel bad that she had never felt any attractivness. One day when Victim got home and went through a yelling session with her mom, Victim went into her room, took off the cursed ring, and stuck it in her mouth to chew. The ring fell on the floor, discarded and broken. Victim's dad found it, and questioned her about it. Eventually, Victim told her dad all about it, and her dad got a pair of pliers to fix the ring, and told her to wear it.

After he left, Victim chewed it again.

Victim had been feeling really bad about herself lately. She knew she wasn't fat, but she was way too skinny, and no amount of food was making her chubbier. On the other hand, Victim saw herself as fat, and hit herself to see as if her cheeks would act like dough and lower themselves. Victim didn't feel pretty, atlethic, or like a good author. She had a Wattpad account, and loved to read the stories on there. But her parents grew frusturated with Victim's grades and got things that would disable apps and websites on all her electronic devices. Victim was distraught, because once she had written in her journal of tears, "As long as I can write, I can live. If I can't, I won't have a life to hurt." That night, she wrote a long entry about how she felt like a part of her was gone, and that she couldn't find it. School continued to be a big butt, and her fights with her parents got worse.

Victim continued to get worse ideas in her head about herself at school, and often went to the bathroom just to let it out. Her journal entries became darker, longer, and more frequent. She stole her dad's pills and stared at them for hours, not able to bring herself to use them. Victim then came up with a quote that she would use to keep herself from hurting herself physically; "Thank the lord when he gave us bravery, he gave us cowardice." because she felt too cowardly to take the pills. She eventually returned them to their place on her father’s dresser. Now, it is the author speaking, to tell the readers that this story is now sped up to several months hence, since the author’s mother took away her writing utensils. Onwards. Victim just felt… Depressed. She turned towards her online friends, hoping they could comfort her, but after she had posted her first two rants, she hadn’t gotten a single like, much less a comment. Victim had no true friends but one. Victim had her books. But Victim’s father didn’t like how much time she spent reading, but her mother had stopped him from trying to burn them. Victim’s grades got worse, and Victim, in turn, had more apps (YouTube, Google+, Wattpad) taken away from her, yet again. Victim felt like she couldn’t be a fangirl anymore, with no one to talk to about her fandom, and nothing except her family. Her closest friend was always busy with church, and they couldn’t hang out anymore, but at least she tried. Victim’s other friends just didn’t seem to like her. Her online friends didn’t notice her. Her book were already read thoroughly. Victim had no one left.

        Victim, still in middle school, got the chance to take a college SAT. It made her feel happy, but soon her thoughts of retardation caught up with her. She had been chewing lead regularly, and Victim knew for a fact she wasn’t Victim anymore. Victim was slower, more clueless, lost, and depressed. Victim was retarded, if only a little. And she knew that. And she couldn’t take back what she had done.

        Meanwhile, Victim’s desperateness for belonging had led her straight back to fandoms; this time deeper than ever. She began to believe in the Greeks.

Now, Victim had always been Catholic, but she felt that the blurred line between one God and Gods could be possible, but after a while she felt she had sinned so badly, she would surely go to hell. Victim continued to write her worries in her brightly colored journal from her 9th birthday, and tensions grew between her family. Victim simply did not belong. Victim snuck on her computer that night, and proceeded to write a paragraph on her Google+ page, sent privately to herself.

“My parents simply do not understand what YouTube does. They do not realise that it is what keeps me from leaving the house in the middle of the night, or end up asking my friends if I can sleep under their beds. They do not realise that it makes me happier-- All they see is the drug-looking skin on the outside. YouTube is your guitar, dad, and YouTube is my grades to you, mom. It is important, and is that why you take it away from me so often? Such as my books, my sense of self, my pride? You do not realise how horrible it is to talk to my friends; both online and in real life, and have no idea what they're talking about, but I go along with it because I know I should understand, it's just that I do not have enough resources to keep along with my generation. You make me feel vulnerable when you steal away my source of food, water, and shelter, my shining sun, the rain. You make me feel old, yet young, but not in a good way. The reason why I can never focus is because I'm always wondering what I would be doing if I were normal, or if “

         Victim paused, waiting for her mother to materialize behind her and lecture her on the importance of schoolwork. Make her have a guilty conscience. That was Victim’s most fatal flaw: Guilt. Her parents used that as their weapon to keep her under control. And then Victim realised. It wasn’t her parents, her friends, or even her lack of online notice that made her depressed, or bullied her. It was all Victim. Victim was the one that had started eating the led, that thought everyone hated her. Victim bullied herself to sleep, and through the hours of the day. Victim was both a victim and a bully. And she couldn’t change anything.

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