Dawn, Broken and Hurting
Fiction & Literature, Drama, American, Nonfiction, Entertainment, Romance, Contemporary
| Author: | Rene Lathrop-Nethercot | ISBN: | 9781476279404 |
| Publisher: | Rene Lathrop-Nethercot | Publication: | April 3, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Rene Lathrop-Nethercot |
| ISBN: | 9781476279404 |
| Publisher: | Rene Lathrop-Nethercot |
| Publication: | April 3, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
Dawn was one of those girls all the other girls envied. She had so much self confidence. Of course in my eyes, her confidence wasn't "self" confidence at all. She did not earn her confidence. She saw the favor in other people's eyes and translated that into a stockpile of confidence. Her self worth was built only on her daddy's money and her natural beauty. She did not contribute to either, so it couldn't be considered "self" anything. I would love to claim that I was too good to envy such a girl. Money is temporary after all and looking back on the tempest of an acquaintanceship I had with Dawn, I wish I knew then what I know now. I would have saved the energy it took to beat her. I wouldn't have made the choices I made. There are just some genies I can't put back in the bottle.
I remember the powerful Kansas wind was unrelenting on the day our battle really started. I awoke in a foul mood. I slid on my green Vans sneakers and my lime backpack. I stopped by the mirror that was next to our front door to appraise my appearance. Mop of curly, unruly hair tied into a messy knot atop my head. Chin long bangs constructed with a straightening iron, a curling iron and a gallon of gel made a perfectly immobile frame for a thin face and bright blue eyes. Orange eye shadow caused my eyes to glow even more blue than they did naturally. I checked to make sure my brown eyeliner made perfect points at the corner. The eyeliner gave me the look I needed. Strong, determined, angry were my goals. I did not want to be picked on. I wanted to be someone others feared. I needed to be able to protect myself. I was aware most girls at my age wanted to be pretty. I used to want to be beautiful. I needed to look tough. Pretty is weak. Mean is tough.
"Dawn," Mom called. "Don't forget your lunch." I forgot to mention, I am Dawn. This isn't a story about my battle with the most popular girl in school. This is the story of my inner battle and how I went from being the most desirable girl in school to becoming myself and finding who I really was meant to be.
Dawn was one of those girls all the other girls envied. She had so much self confidence. Of course in my eyes, her confidence wasn't "self" confidence at all. She did not earn her confidence. She saw the favor in other people's eyes and translated that into a stockpile of confidence. Her self worth was built only on her daddy's money and her natural beauty. She did not contribute to either, so it couldn't be considered "self" anything. I would love to claim that I was too good to envy such a girl. Money is temporary after all and looking back on the tempest of an acquaintanceship I had with Dawn, I wish I knew then what I know now. I would have saved the energy it took to beat her. I wouldn't have made the choices I made. There are just some genies I can't put back in the bottle.
I remember the powerful Kansas wind was unrelenting on the day our battle really started. I awoke in a foul mood. I slid on my green Vans sneakers and my lime backpack. I stopped by the mirror that was next to our front door to appraise my appearance. Mop of curly, unruly hair tied into a messy knot atop my head. Chin long bangs constructed with a straightening iron, a curling iron and a gallon of gel made a perfectly immobile frame for a thin face and bright blue eyes. Orange eye shadow caused my eyes to glow even more blue than they did naturally. I checked to make sure my brown eyeliner made perfect points at the corner. The eyeliner gave me the look I needed. Strong, determined, angry were my goals. I did not want to be picked on. I wanted to be someone others feared. I needed to be able to protect myself. I was aware most girls at my age wanted to be pretty. I used to want to be beautiful. I needed to look tough. Pretty is weak. Mean is tough.
"Dawn," Mom called. "Don't forget your lunch." I forgot to mention, I am Dawn. This isn't a story about my battle with the most popular girl in school. This is the story of my inner battle and how I went from being the most desirable girl in school to becoming myself and finding who I really was meant to be.
