BEACON

rer, keeping to the house except when she has duties at her school. I mirror my mom in appearance, save for my dad's long black hair. While she boasts a rich dark brown hair, we share the same browni

is is m

f a soul hungry for expression and validations. The glowing lights that escaped into my room through the window glass cast elegant strokes across my face, painting my features in hues of anticipation. I close my eyes and let the words flow, a flood of emotions cascading onto the shape of my thoughts. "Oh it has happened again", I thought. I needed validation again, I thought I was loved, I thought they said, "be you", wasn't that all they rang in our ears while growing up. This is just who I am, how is it a crime? Yes, I have the worst personality , a personality no one should have. I have tried to change it several times, but I find myself going back to it. I really want a change, I really wa

ly. Mum didn't allow me to cook for her husband, she wanted to cook for him by herself. Lucky me. It started to pour heavily and that moment took me back to some hurtful memories I had back in highschool in the process of trying to change. There exists a memor

started hearing things about me again. It's happening again. I thought everyone would have changed or tri

class heading to my seat I

don't talk to

day I would beat her up her mum would

very proud," an

piercing into my tender heart, but there was nothing I could do, no one was standing up for me

anyone so I won't get misunderstood again. Immediately the

en I'm being wrong and when I'm not. I took my paper and started writing, the paper, stained with my tear marks, as I couldn't take it anymore that day, the only thing I could write on the paper was "'Do not talk to anybody today.'' I couldn't bear the weight of another day filled with false smiles and shallow smiles. Skipping breakfast, I left for school because I was running late , skipping the assembly and escaping from the punishment, as the

respond, to let the warmth of connection in, but I remembered what I had written in my to-do-l

es after the bell rang signalling the start of the first period, granting me temporary reprieve from the classroom's stifling atmosphere. I excused myself, retreati

ion. Some stared at me with a disgusting look, "Why did they look at me with such disdain?" "What had I done to earn their scorn?" 'Are my classmates talking behind my back with the juniors again?" Those thoughts kept rushing through my head and I just be amen restless. Suddenly, a scuffle erupted. It was my peers against another class, they were both in heated argument on the verge of beating each other , no teachers were in sight at that time, I didn't want to stand up and break my daily to-do-