Judgment, The Center of Our World

Everyone knows about those wacky, purple, patterned leggings that she always wears. So interesting, so smooth, so skin like. Everyone knows about her tattered clothing and the weird colour combinations. All the popular girls hate her. She's too different, to bold for a tenth grader. Why the heck is she like that? Why is it so hard for her to fit in? Why does she dance when there is no music? Why does her hair flow in all directions? Well I'll tell you a secret. Come nice and close. Over here, in the corner. Those tacky, noticeable, out-a-sight tights are actually her skin. Her scaly, alien skin that help her to run at high speeds. Why do you think they're her good luck charm on the track?

You say thats crazy? Well its true. She never takes them off right? And when you make fun of her in the hall its building up inside. Its burning, a deep rage, and its going to all come out soon enough. When it does they better not be around. All she needs is acceptance and if it isn't given to her she'll slowly get into your head. A quiet fog that encloses around the depths of your mind. It finds weaknesses or flaws and leaks them out through your ears. Spilling in pools around your feet, your self conscious has taken the biggest hit of your life. Tears drip down their faces. Compared to her they are worthless. There is no competition, she is who she is and she's won. They have been a big sore that is now embedded on her soul.

Next time you won't be so quick to judge.