Back to Purple


Six months earlier...

When I'm on my own I can't help thinking about myself, and how other people see me. I feel vain for doing this but, hey, if that's me, why fight it?

I like to think I'm pretty, even though my eyes look like clouds on a bad day. Yet any pictures taken of me transform me look like a hag, my hair in disarray, my expression cross-eyed.

I'm smart, my teachers and parents saying "The sky's the limit!" Why do they still say that when people have now reached the moon? Anyway, if I did not act like such a rebel during lessons, I would be bullied for being a complete geek by my classmates.

My teachers are in despair over my attitude. I swear the only reason they keep me at this school is my constant A grade standard. But can I also point out that my cat knocking over my nail polish remover is a perfectly good excuse for going into school with purple and black stripped nails. There more worried about my distracting my best-friend, Dally-Day-Dream.

Her names actually Delilah, but she hates being called that. Opposite to me in everyway, we are inseparable. My constant chatting to her is said to ‘put her off her work'. Believe me, if one day during physics I was swapped with a gigantic green elephant, Dally would be none the wiser. Her head constantly in the clouds, it's like having a best friend without having to put much effort into it. Talking only when she has to and when shes in a good mood, It's like having a convesation with a wall, except its portable.

She's not smart, never will be. Her favourite colour being white. Mines purple because its such a lively colour. I love going out, being with my friends, getting out of my house and away from my perfectionist parents. I'm sure I would suffocate if I did not get out...  

I'm not allowed out much now, not since the helium accident. I swear the science department should lock that thing in a safe; someone can easily knock the container over if it's on top of a shelf. May I also point out everyone in my class had a good laugh about it and I was the worst to suffer, my voice resembling that of a mouse. I also had nothing to do with Mr Wilson, the most beloved Chemistry teacher, becoming the new sensation of youtube with his squeaky voice and hyperventilating. Although I do admit to 'liking' it.              

I'm not mad. I'm normal. A normal, teenage, smart-arse, girl with friends, goals, blah, blah, blah. I admit to being a pain in the neck and sometimes insufferable to be around. But mad? No. Theres a reason I'm here, but not for the reason you think...     


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