A curse. A girl. And a whole lot of reality coming her way.
Popular. That word is sacred in highschool because, if you're popular, you rule the world. People notice you, they want to be with you and everything they do is trivial to you. I wish every day that I was more popular, so that I could be noticed, and have that control. As it is, I'm a medium heighted girl with pitch black hair and blue eyes who has never fitted in, and is starting to believe she never will.
My life started being rubbish the day I was born. I was left, on my own in a cardboard box at the police station, and from that day on I've been passed from one person to another in hopes of finding someone who can 'deal with her'. No such luck.
Another suckish thing about my life is that whoever left me at the policestation obviously didn't have very many morals, because they gave me tattoo's to remember them by. And not like a normal tattoo, like a small one on my wrist or neck. Oh no. It starts on my coxis with a small star, then bursts out in to a shower of stars up the centre of my back, like champagne flying out of a bottle. This shower goes straight up to my neck and disappears under my hair. There's a trail of these stars joining the back which run down my arms, curving round until it meets my wrist. Another thin small trail of these runs around my hips and up around my belly button to the space between my breasts. Cool huh?
Not that I care what people think of my tattoos. To me, they're kind of hot. I got another tattoo when I was sixteen of a quote on my chest which states 'Feel free to look, but it's peril to touch'.
I tend to wear black a lot. I have awesome black boots and a really nice black skirt which is thigh length and has ragged edges. I stole it from a department window. They didn't catch me, in fact, I don't think they even noticed. It made it all worth while when I marched down the hallway to think that I achieved something not many people can, and I looked good doing it.
But as I say, not popular. So here it comes, cover your ears. BANG. Yes, that's me being pushed in to the locker. My morning wouldn't be the same without it. I yell abuse at the guy who did it, then continue my march to my first class. Biology.