Me.
They told me
"You should be yourself"
And yet
They told me
I wasn't good enough.
They told me
"The inside matters more than the outside"
And yet
They shamed me for being fat
And laughed at my body
And told me I was ugly
So, so ugly
I shouldn't be seen in public.
They told me
"It's okay to cry sometimes"
Then one day
When everything
Just hurt too much
I broke down in public
And they told me
To stop being an attention seeker
And stop being so emotional
And stop overreacting
Because
Everyone really hates people
Who cry too much.
They told me
"We're here for you"
So I tried to ask
For help
And told them
My problems.
Why is it
That they simply
Scolded me
And told me
That they had their own problems to deal with
And not to burden others
With mine.
So in the end
I'm just a girl
Who's
Not good enough
Fat
Ugly
Attention-seeking
And a
Burden.
So in the end
I took everything
That was me
And I crushed it underneath
The soles of my feet
Into pieces so small
That no one could see them
At all.
Not even me.
Now
I can't remember
Who I was
Before the world
Told me who to be.
Sandals
My eyelids flutter open. I feel weirdly peaceful, weirdly calm, not even the slightest bit groggy, for some reason. That's weird. I'm not usually a morning person.
I'm not lying on my bed. I get up and look around. Why was I lying beside the river? I am not even wearing my sandals. That is certainly strange. I never go anywhere barefooted.
I blink. I can't seem to recall anything of yesterday. Everything is blurry in my mind.
I don't feel tired, but I don't feel energetic either. I just feel this calming sense of serenity. Which is weird, considering I just found out that I woke up next to a river and not in my own bed.
Maybe I'll just go home. Did I go to a party and get drunk or something? But I can't remember anything about a party. Plus, I'm really antisocial and never, like absolutely never, go to parties.
I walk home. It's pretty far, four kilometres or so, but I'm not tired at all. I feel relaxed. It's so, so weird, but I'm not complaining. It feels comfortable.
I'm home. No one else appears to be home. The house is in a mess. Everything is thrown about all over the place. Mom's favourite vase is in shards on the living room floor. Food packaging lies everywhere. It's strange, because my parents are seriously particular about tidiness and hygiene. Dirty laundry is heaped on the sofa, and my brother's books are strewn about on the floor.
Hm. That's weird. Where is everyone? Dad works during the day, so that's explained for, but where's Mom and my brother?
Maybe I'll go see my neighbour Liza. She'll know where they are. Plus, she's my best friend. Maybe she knows why I ended up next to a river.
I knock on her house door. No one comes. I try the knob, and the door swings open. Okay... I hate to intrude, but I've been doing this for a while, so... yeah.
I hurry up to Liza's room. She's lying on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her appearance takes me aback. She's usually really happy, lively, energetic and cheerful. Now she looks really depressed.
Her eyes are bloodshot, face pale, cheeks wet with tears. Used tissues lie on the floor, an empty tub of ice cream underneath her bed. I swallow.
"Liza?" I ask. "What's wrong?"
She doesn't even appear to hear me. I frown. "Hey, don't ignore me. You need to tell me what's wrong."
She ignores me completely again. I bite my lip. I see all the symptoms.
"Did you break up with Drew?" Drew is Liza's boyfriend, or maybe now her ex, seeing the state of things. I was pretty convinced they were both really in love with each other, so it's weird to think that they might have broken up. Still, it's a possibility.
Liza still doesn't acknowledge my presence. She just flops over onto her stomach, face down against the bed.
I sigh. Maybe she needs some alone time. "Bye," I murmur, before leaving her house.
I return back home. The house looks empty as before, but I realise that I can hear crying. It sounds like Mom.
So she is home! How could I have not heard her just now?
It's coming from the main bedroom. Mom's not usually a crier. I wonder what's wrong. I rush for the bedroom.
Mom is wailing, tears running down her face. She's choking, hands clawing at her hair, her eyes bloodshot. Dad holds Mom in his arms, rocking her gently. Dad is crying, too, but he's evidently trying to hold it in for her sake. He's tearing up in silence. My eyes widen. What in the world is going on? Is it because they couldn't find me this morning or something?
"Mom! Dad!" I exclaim. They're apparently too caught up in their crying to hear me. I raise my voice and try again. "I'm right here!" I shout.
Again they don't hear me. I run right up to them and try to shake them, but to my surprise, I don't seem to be able to even move them. It's like they're stone statues frozen in place, only... well, they're not made of stone. It's so weird!
What is going on?
I back away. I run to brother's room instead. He's seated on his bed, staring into blank space. He isn't crying, but he's trembling slightly. His chest heaves up and down as he breathes heavily.
"Brother?" I say. Like everyone else, he ignores me. What is with everyone today? I storm out of the room in frustration.
I return to the living room, mind racing. My thoughts are a convoluted mess in my head. Then I see someone in front of me. I gasp.
"Grandma?" I whisper.
Tears spring forth to my eyes. I run forward and throw myself into her arms. She rocks backwards from the impact first, but then she hugs me tightly, tears in her eyes.
"Sapphire," she smiles. "I'm so glad to see you, love."
"Gr-gr-grandma!" is all I can get out. I sniff, trying to stop crying.
Finally, after our emotional reunion, I look up at her. "What's going on?"
Grandma's smile fades from her face. "Sapph..."
"Grandma, would you please tell me what is going on?" I beg her, eyes threatening to tear up all over again. "I'm so confused! Everything's weird. You need to explain!"
Grandma looks down at the floor, looking sad. "There's... There's nothing to explain, Sapph."
"Grandma!" I plead with her again. She doesn't reply, only continuing to gaze at the floor, teardrops splashing against the marble. This is so frustrating.
Then I remember something.
Grandma shouldn't be here.
She died from cancer years ago.
My eyes widen. I slowly look up at her, before beginning to back away from her. I'm trembling. "You're... you're a ghost!"
Grandma's looks up at me. "Sapph..."
"You're... you're a ghost!" I cry. I've always been fearful of ghosts, fearful of the paranormal. "G-g-g-ghost!"
"Sapphire!" Grandma pleads with me. "Listen!"
My chest heaves up and down. I take deep breaths. I try to calm myself down. It's a ghost, but it's Grandma, right?
"You see..." Grandma massages her forehead, looking extremely upset. "Sweetheart, it's complicated..."
"I... I don't understand." I swallow. "Aren't you... aren't you... d-d-... d-dead?"
Grandma doesn't reply. She picks the newspaper off the coffee table and hands it to me. I hesitate, then take it.
"But..." I still don't understand. Grandma swallows, pain in her eyes, but she gestures for me to read it.
I don't know why, but I feel a sense of dread as I lower my gaze to read the headlines.
River claims young teen's life.
I don't understand. Grandma's crying again. "Sapph... They only found your sandals, floating in the current."
What do you mean?
"Grandma?"
She looks at me sadly.
"Darling, me and you... We're already dead."
Dream
"You're lazy, you know that?" she fumes, storming out of the room. "Some days, all you do is sleep, sleep and sleep!"
It's not the first time I've gotten that. In fact, I get it all the time. I spend many days just lying in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness, either staring at the ceiling or sleeping. People are convinced there's something wrong with me. Maybe there is. They say it's normal to love sleep, but not as much as I do.
They don't understand. When I sleep, I retreat into my own world of oblivion. A peaceful world where my troubles in real life are forgotten and drowned out in a wash of darkness. In real life, I feel like I am suffocating slowly, like something heavy and sad is crushing me painfully. When I sleep, that weight slips away from me and I feel more relaxed.
There are many nightmares, though. And in most of the nightmares, it's all about that day. Seeing your sandals floating in the water all over again, falling into a stream, being underwater and unable to breathe. Seeing you struggling far away from me and no matter how hard I try to swim to you, try to reach you, I never am able to get close before seeing you sink and disappear into the water.
When I wake up, more often than not, my pillow is damp and salty, my eyes wet and hot. But I like sleeping, even with the nightmares. Because while there are nightmares, there are just as many good dreams as well. And these dreams are what keep me going, are what make up for all the nightmares. They're my solace.
People don't get why I love sleep so much, and I don't think they ever will. Maybe because I'm not really in love with sleep itself. I'm in love with the dreams. In dreams, I get to see things that aren't existent in real life. I get to imagine. I get to see things that I wish I had, things that I miss oh so dearly.
Perhaps I love to dream so much because sometimes when I dream, you're there again.
It’s the inside that matters
Remember, what's on the outside isn't important. It's what's on the inside that matters.
Like how inner beauty is more important than outer beauty. How in fruits like coconuts, it's the inside that you eat, not the outside shell. And how the treasure of a treasure chest is, well, inside the chest and not the wooden chest itself.
So blacken my eyes. Cut me till I bleed. You can break every bone in this fragile body of glass, and it wouldn't matter. Not with me like this right now: my heart broken, my hope dead, and my soul shattered.
So kick me. Scratch me. Punch me. Stone me. I don't care. Everything important that I have has already been destroyed.
Emotion
It was done.
He stepped out of the door, closing it soundlessly behind him. Quietly, the man walked out into the snow.
The few people that were out and passed him without even glancing at him. If they'd even just bothered to look for a second, they'd just see a regular man in a black jacket, hood over his head to shield him from the snow, mask concealing half his face to protect him from the harsh icy air. Nothing interesting, nothing worth staring at. He was just part of the background, the stereotypical man rushing home in the snow.
Blend in. That was what he had been taught to do ever since he was six. Don't let yourself be noticed. Being noticed means attention. Attention means danger.
Snowflakes spiralled in the cold air, dancing in perfect synchronisation. A velvety white diamond of snow floated down gracefully and kissed him on his eyelashes.
He continued walking, with each step, feet sinking into the thick layer of snow. Icy tendrils of cold entangled themselves around his body. He pulled his jacket around himself more tightly.
The man turned right at the end of the block and walked a while more until he reached a bus stop. The bus stop was completely empty, not a person in sight. He didn't intend on taking the bus; it would mean a record of him would be left behind, telling everyone that a particular man had boarded a bus at a specific time, at a certain place...
But he was tired. He walked over to the bus stop, sat down on the bench. He removed the mask from his face, just for a while, to free his face from the discomfort of the thing clapping uncomfortably over it. He would just rest a bit, and then he would be on his way.
A girl walked to the bus stop. At seeing him, her eyes widened and she drew a hiss of surprise.
The man looked up, recognition flickering across his face.
He hadn't seen her in years. The last time they'd met, it had ended with her screaming at him, landing a stinging slap across his face, and running away and vanishing into the autumn night.
He'd known that she'd moved house, but that she'd picked this area to live in was strange to him. She'd always loved lively, sunny places, frequently heading to the park or wildlife reserve. That'd she'd come to such a miserable, dull and dreary place surprised him. He got up from his seat, still not believing his eyes.
"You." The words escaped her lips, a harsh bullet of anger and accusation.
"Yes..." He exhaled softly, breath in the air, a whisper of white vapour. "Me."
Her stormy grey eyes glared into his. "Why are you here?" she asked.
"I had something I needed to do. That's all."
"And what exactly do you mean by that?"
He lowered his gaze. "Business."
She breathed deeply, and he could see her trembling. He looked up again, to see her eyes burning with ferocity and rage.
"Who was it?" she demanded. "Who was it this time?"
He didn't answer. There was no point in answering anyway.
She stepped forward, swiftly grabbing hold of his collar and yanking him forward. She wasn't like normal girls, he knew. He supposed it was characteristic of her to be rather violent when she was infuriated.
"Out with it!" she snarled, and he could practically see the rage that burned within her eyes.
He stepped back, breaking out of her vise-like grip with complete ease, barely using any strength. Her hand fell back to her side, but she kept glaring.
"Nobody important," he replied, his voice soft, gentle and calm, the way it had always been.
She clenched her fists at his words. "Nobody important? Nobody important? How could you say that? Every life has value. He might have had a wife. Children. A family, all depending on him to bring home food to put on the table. Did you ever consider that for a single second of your life?"
The truth was, he had. But it was easier not to think about it. Why make things more difficult? Anyway, after all these years, he was used to it. He did it without hesitation. It was a thing he did as normally, as casually as tying his shoelaces. It didn't even make him guilty or upset anymore. It was all part of life. His life.
He didn't want to speak to her anymore. He didn't want to feel emotion again. He'd trained himself not to feel emotion after all these years. Falling in love had been the one mistake he'd made. Emotion complicated things. Emotion was pointless.
Emotion is dangerous.
He turned to leave. Her hand shot forward and grabbed his arm. "You are not just going to leave like that! Wait!" He could hear her struggling not to cry.
He didn't turn to face her. He didn't yank his arm from her grasp. He just stood there, unmoving, eyes shut. Waiting.
"Wait..." she whispered, again, suddenly not at all like the raging tempest she had been just a few seconds ago, suddenly softer, warmer, pleading. A jolt of pain shot through his heart. This was how she'd been around him in the good old days.
When they'd been in love.
"You can't continue like this." She looked into his eyes pleadingly, rage gone, replaced completely with only sadness and pleading. "It's destroying you."
"It's my job," he replied.
"Then change it," she said. "It's ruining you. It's taking away your humanity. It's heartless. Cold-blooded. Selfish. It's not right."
They'd had this conversation before. The last time he'd been with her. Yes, the very same time where she'd stormed off after leaving the right side of his face red and stinging.
That night, it'd been too beautiful a night for such a thing to happen. It'd been years, and yet he could still remember every little detail. He was observant. He had to be, or he'd be dead by now. The bespeckled sky, a dark, endless canopy, stretching over their heads. The stars, diamonds of gold, scintillating gently in the oblivion of the night. A soft, gentle night breeze, caressing his face, playing with her auburn hair. And the moon. Silver, large, clear and perfectly whole and complete. More complete than he would ever be.
He felt himself stiffen from the memories. God, how he'd missed her. How he'd longed to be with her. How he'd longed to just hold her in his arms and hug her. Years of suppressed emotion surged up inside him, struggling to break free from the bonds that he'd restrained them with.
No, he couldn't afford to feel emotion. He struggled to fight it back down.
"You can change," she whispered, clinging onto his sleeve. "I tried to change you all those years we were together. I still will try, if only you let me."
"I don't like seeing you like this. I've seen that shred of you, the real you, the good you, when we were together. I'll find it again. I'm not afraid. I promise I'll help you find it again. I will fix you." Her eyes sparkled with tears.
"You don't have to be a killer. What you really are is not what you've been. You can come back. Come back, Drew."
Immediately, he tensed. "Don't call me Drew," he replied, and just like that, he quashed all his emotions. His heart returned to steel. No one had called him Drew for years. It reminded him of his childhood. Constant abuse, beatings, intensive training to become a killer. The childhood that had thrown him into fear, turned him stone-cold, stripped him of his emotion and his humanity, turning him into a heartless killing machine.
"I'm not Drew," he stated, his voice steely and controlled. "Not anymore. Never again. I am Crimson Rain. Call me that, or nothing at all."
"Drew, please," she begged him. He sent her an icy glare, reverted to his original unfeeling, unmoved and stone-cold state.
The way he'd been his whole life.
And then there were sirens.
Police sirens.
His head snapped up, eyes focussed and alert. He turned swiftly to face her. His features were contorted with fury.
"You called them here!" he growled, wrenching his arm free from her grasp.
She shook her head in dismay. "No! I didn't! I swear!" She tried to grab his arm again.
He snarled at her, stepping away from her. He'd been such an idiot. He'd let himself get delayed, get distracted, let his guard down.
Carelessness means death.
He'd let himself feel emotion again. He couldn't believe himself. Emotion was dangerous. He couldn't allow himself to ever feel it again.
He turned to look at her. She was the reason for all this. He knew what he had to do, and that sent pain streaking through his heart.
More emotion. Because of her. She really was a danger to him. He needed her gone.
His hand travelled to his side, fingers closed around the black, sleek object. He whipped it out, fingers skimming across the smooth, cold surface. He smelt metal and gunpowder. This gun had been the weapon he had used to kill the target just now. And now, he would use it again.
He pointed it at her, finger curling around the trigger, an action he was so familiar with now. His chest heaved up and down. He hesitated. He couldn't do it. He'd killed hundreds already, famous figures, billionaires, all kinds of people, and he couldn't bring himself to kill one girl. He hated himself.
Her eyes were wide. "Drew!" she pleaded.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He was running out of time. The police were close. Emotions were running rampant inside of him. They screamed at him not to pull the trigger, to let her live.
He made his decision. He took the emotions, and crushed them all. When he opened his eyes, they were cold and unfeeling.
He pulled the trigger.
She went rigid, hands travelling to her chest, where crimson was spreading outwards rapidly. There wasn't any anger in her eyes. Just overwhelming sorrow.
I couldn't save you.
She'd tried. Her lips twisted in a sad, broken smile. She slumped forward, falling against him, grabbing onto him for support as her legs buckled beneath her. She gazed into his eyes one last time, before her hands went limp and she went crumpling to the ground.
A jolt of pain stabbed through him, but he crushed it. He looked at the lifeless girl on the ground, and reminded himself that she was nothing to him.
He was meant to be alone. After all, a contract killer's life was a lonely one.
The police were approaching. He began to run, without looking back. He vanished, a shadow returning to the night.
Fade
"Keith? Do you wanna go and play make-believe?" Ryan beams. I smile at him. "Sure! What do you want to pretend to be?"
Ryan thinks for a while. "I don't know. How about pirates?" I grin. "Great idea!"
We horse around and play, having fun. Ryan cackles with joy and delight.
Ryan's mother pokes her head into the room. "Ry-ry, who are you talking to?" she frowns.
"Mommy, it's just Keithy," Ryan points at me, beaming. "We're playing pirates."
His mom looks over in my direction, and her face twists with confusion. Then slowly, a smile spreads over her face. "Oh... You mean Keithy, eh? Okay, have fun, Ryan! Uh... and Keithy!"
She leaves and leaves us to our playing.
*
"I want a dog!" screams Ryan. "A dog!" Tears are streaming down his face. He's refusing to talk to his parents until they get him a dog.
I hug him. "Shh, Ryan. Your parents can be pretty mean sometimes, right?"
"Yeah!" Ryan sniffs indignantly. "I WANT A DOG!"
"Me too," I sulk. "How about we just sit here and scream that we want a dog together. Maybe it'll make you feel better and your parents will listen."
And we do. The neighbours come and complain some time later, but well, we both feel slightly better, at least.
*
"Ryan! What are you doing with cereal all over your head?!" his mom scolds. Ryan sulks, pointing at me. "It's all Keith's fault! He didn't want to eat his cereal and dumped it all over my head!"
His mom frowns. "Not funny, Ryan. Stop playing with your food!"
Ryan crosses his arms and pouts at me. I grin at him, laughter twisting my features.
*
Ryan's six now. "Hey, Ryan," I smile. "Wanna play make-believe?"
Ryan glances at me, shakes his head. "Nah, I'm gonna play with my friends."
My smile slowly dies, but I quickly plaster a weak one on my face. "Oh! Oh... Sure...! Have fun!"
Ryan leaves the house and greets his friends who are standing outside, waiting for him with large grins on their faces. Ryan smiles elatedly at them, and I feel a twinge of pain stabbing through my heart. Ryan hasn't smiled at me like that for a while. Sighing, I walk back to his room, waiting for him to come back.
*
"Ryan? Are you feeling okay? What's the matter?" I ask eight-year-old Ryan.
Ryan rolls his eyes at me. "It's nothing," he dismisses it, but there's clearly something wrong.
"Hey, you can tell me. I'm your best friend," I remind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Ryan shoots me a glare, one that chills me to the bone. I withdraw my hand and stumble back, eyes wide in shock. This is the first time I feel such resentment towards me from him. Did I do something wrong?
"You're not my best friend, Keith," he says, before whipping out a phone and talking to another of his friends. My heart throbs, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I stumble out of the room. I look at my hands.They're glowing, becoming slightly translucent. I hiss in pain.
I'm fading.
*
Ryan's nine. I've been struggling to rebuild our relationship, but he's very distant now. He mostly just ignores me, cares only about his other friends. Everyday, I can tell that I'm becoming more and more translucent. I'm a pale translucent silver now, plagued by constant headaches and stabbing pains through my heart.
"R-Ryan...?" I manage weakly. "Do you... Do you want to play make-believe?"
Ryan just glares at me. "Leave me alone, Keith. I have homework to do, then I'm going out to play with my friends."
Another jolt of excruciating pain slashes through me. I clutch at my head, crumpling to my knees, black spots dancing before my eyes, my vision blurry and head dizzy. I grab onto the edge of Ryan's bed for support, panting, tears stinging at my eyes. My hands, my body. Barely visible now. Almost completely see-through.
I let out a sob. Ryan ignores me.
*
And now he's ten.
"Ryan...!" I stumble over to him. "L-let's p-p-play!"
He continues his work like I am not there.
"Ryan!" I try calling him again. It's like he doesn't hear me. I wave my hand in front of his face. He doesn't respond.
I place it on his shoulder, but my hand goes right through him. I swallow, trying again and again. I've become intangible.
"Ryan!" I cry out again. "Ryan!" Once again he doesn't respond. "Please..." I'm begging, sinking to my knees. My hands. They're becoming transparent. And now, I can't even see them anymore. My body shakes with pain. "Ryan... Help... Don't let me fade..." I choke out a cry.
Ryan doesn't react. He continues doing his homework.
Tears cascade down my cheeks. I cry, cry, tears inundating my heart, hopelessness and agony coursing throughout my being. My senses aren't working anymore. I can't feel my body. Everything is numb, dark, and silent. All I am aware of now is the excruciating pain and sorrow that rips through my heart.
"R-ryan..." I whisper, using my last ounce of strength to reach up towards him, to outstretch an arm, waiting for him to smile, reach down and help me up, like I always did for him.
Nothing. I no longer exist to him, not even in his memories.
Ryan, my Ryan, has grown up.
A broken, melancholic smile contorts my features.
And then I fade away completely.
Goodbye.
Don’t. Just Don’t.
Sorry doesn't cut it. Sorry doesn't change the fact that you've ruined my little sister's life and led her to have eating disorders and become overly self-conscious just so she'd be "pretty enough" for you. Perhaps saying "I'm sorry" makes you feel better, lessens your guilt, but honestly, it does not, in any way whatsoever, show that you feel remorse for what you did to her.
Saying that you're sorry is empty. Don't carelessly throw it about. It doesn't show that you mean it, that you genuinely feel apologetic and care about my sister.
You hurt her. After all she's done for you, how much she loved you, you just pretended to care for her, before you cheated on her and broke her heart. Listen, you jerk. Don't tell her you're sorry. It means nothing.
Maybe it's worked for you before. Maybe every time, after you told a girl that you're sorry for hurting them, they believed you, and everything became alright, no matter how bad the situation. Guess what? It's different this time. I don't give a damn how many times you say you're sorry. Empty words that mean absolutely nothing.
Tomorrow, I'm going to find you at school, and slap you. Don't worry, after that, I'll say I'm sorry. Then I'll slap you again. And again. But at least I'd have said sorry, right?
Science Fair Project
"Um... So you see... This... This Science Fair Project..." I stutter, dumping my project on the table. "I... I call it Earth."
My classmates stare at my project. "Uh... Okay...? So, tell us about it," my teacher, a green-skinned being with seven eyes and worms for hair, prompts me for my presentation.
"Well, it's basically a planet..." I begin, but my best friend, who has eight hands, interrupts. "You do know that planets aren't spherical in shape, don't you? They're cones!"
My face turns rainbow with embarrassment. I could really be so stupid sometimes. "Uh... hehe... But anyway, it basically is a planet with inhabitants called humans..."
I finish. I have nothing else to say. My classmates look on at me expectantly. "And...?" my teachers asks.
"Uhm..." I rack all eight of my brains. "Well, these humans are basically creatures who have two hands, two legs-"
"What? That's absurd! Only two hands? How can they ever get anything done? Two legs? What? Oh my goodness, this is just plain ridiculous!" my classmate with the three heads scoffs. My face colours immediately again.
"Um... Yeah. They have two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth, and their hair is made of keratin," I continue.
The most beautiful student in the room, who has eight mouths and six eyes, wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Ewwwww! They must be hideous!"
"Uh... Heh. Well, yeah, they kinda are. So basically, humans start off as cavemen, then they evolve and evolve. They're rather inefficient, and can't do a lot of things. Like for an instance, they can't teleport, can't fly, can't perform telekinesis or telepathy-"
My classmates stare at me in absolute horror. "What? That must be terrible!" they exclaim.
This is really embarrassing. I hate being the stupidest kid in class.
"So basically, humans can only live for around 100 years, and they have different stages in life. Baby, where they cannot walk or talk and just lie down eating sleeping and pooping. Toddler, where they finally can walk and they utter incoherent garble. Child, where they eat too much candy and throw tantrums and play games and talk a lot. Teenager, where most get all emotional and rebellious and stuff like that. Adult, where-"
"Ugh! That's just so boring and horrible!" complains one of my classmates, and the rest nod in agreement. "Talk about something else!"
"W-well..." I think harder. "Humans fight a lot and even kill each other! They have this thing called war, where they kill lots and lots of people and use these weapons called guns that fire bullets and that kind of thing!"
"Lame. You mean they don't have the power to kill someone just by thinking of it?" a classmate asks.
"Uh... yeah. They name these kind of abilities superpowers," I explain.
The classmate scoff at this. My face burns with shame.
"So, these humans, they have no idea they're a Science Fair Project. Most of them think they're really smart. I used illusions, to make it seem that outside of Earth, there is a thing called space and the universe. Also, I can create these things called natural disasters, too." I shake the globe wildly and I hear little human screams. "That was an earthquake." I want to show them more, but they cut me off. "That is just insipid," the most popular student states. "Please just tell us other stuff."
"Um... Humans ruin a lot of things? They burn trees, ruin each others' lives by being mean and bullying each other, kill animals until species are extinct, pollute the water and air, litter everywhere..." I stumble over my words.
My teacher raises her hand. "Hey, kiddo, I'll have to stop you here. Your project is just too boring! It also is really unrealistic. I mean, such a world is just too horrible! It's really ridiculous and uninteresting. I'll have to give you an F," she says, shaking all three of his heads.
My face falls. I spent 5.86 billion years working on this project! Sighing, I set the entire globe on fire with my powers, then toss it in the bin. To the humans, they must be thinking it is the end of the world. At least, it is for them. For me, it's the end of my grades.
Sighing, I return to my seat, waiting for the remaining students to present on their Science Fair Projects.