Dot Dot Dot, Dash Dash Dash, Dot Dot Dot

What, do I owe you?

You gave me ugly and made me fat.

You took support and you way of being a good parent is driving me around and cooking.

You never see.

See, that I am always on the brink of tears.

See that I want to understand.

See, that I never do.

One day, one long, tiring day, when I woke up you were gone. I had a mound of homework and chores to do. I did my chores. I started on my homework. But then it got cold. So unbearably cold. So I took to my room and wrapped myself in my duvet. And then I woke up. It was dark out and cold in. I had slept, for four hours. So I walk into the living room and there you are, just sitting there, watching the telly. "Do you not understand how far behind I am" I want to scream at you. "Do you not get that every day I come home to mounds of meaningless papers, which I am supposed to complete but do not understand?" But no, you do not understand, you do not see. I look into the mirror and see a fat, unhappy girl, falling behind in school, and in life.

No drive, no power, helplessly buffeted by the currents of fate, her big brown eyes; always filled with tears, tears that are threatening to spill out and drown the world in sorrow and pain and emptiness.

“Am I really this shallow?” I wonder, “To be obsessed with doing better when what I have is what most kids in Africa dream of?”
But it is not easy, being in a group of academics, always doing better, always reaching higher. I know I must work to achieve, but the days stretch out into nothingness, and the paper is blank, meaningless, sitting there, mocking me.

I hate my life, I want to end it, but I’m too pathetic to even kill myself.

And life goes on, dragging me with it.

Damn. I have been writing really depressing stuff lately, haven’t I? But this is how some kids feel, and it is those kids who my heart goes out to, because at least in Africa they don’t have little miss sunshine pageants.