That curly haired girl.
An original story, written September 24th, 2025.
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And there I stood in silence, a silence I loved, but was involuntary. Looking in the mirror, I held the hair straightener and combed it across my hair. The heat, a pleasure, a warmth I’ve never received before. And I would cry from it, when I touch the rim, but all I can think of when I do, is how much pain it would be in, so I let it hurt me to let out it’s frustrations. A heart I have, for an object, a reason I don’t have, yet I do. And when I move on, I leave it alone, to sulk in a somber quiet, no power, no life, to be freed.
With no wit, I fall asleep in the car, passing the bridge, on the way to learn more things not one person truly loves nor cares about. A book we’d only read because we have to, a test we only take because we must, a lesson only taught because the teacher was made to. Unless once would go against the grain, and so many have tried, all children would go through it, a lesson of divide. and when I awake, just minutes before the building comes into frame, I see a billboard, an ad. I look at it, and I see a girl, just slightly younger than me, and her hair curled next to the pink plastic of a product being sold. I’d lay in the front seat, staring at the billboard passing by, never to be noticed again, and I’d think to myself of what to do with the information, for my peers would remove me of a life I somewhat enjoy.
In the day I’d stay silent, speaking when called on and speaking when they demanded a prayer for the day, but when it comes to friends I haven’t got many. I think of a way to avoid annoyance, aggravation, but it always ends the same. After it all, the tiring classes and relentlessly annoying classmates, I was picked up by my Aunt to be dropped off back at my house. And on that way home, I saw it again, the billboard with the curly haired girl. A different girl I will say, and next to her a phone number, a hotline. A line I ignored, for what was I if not alive? What am I if I did not move? But my questions would never be answered, rhetorical or not, they’d stay quiet in the corner of my mind to never be mentioned to anyone, not one person if not me.
At home I’d be left by myself, to fend alone, cooking and cleaning and watching whatever peaked my interest even slightly. It’s a sad sight, a sad thought, to think of my life this way, but I could do nothing with what was not there. An adventure would be great to have now, but I’d not go on it. A new discovery for the likes of me to find would be wonderous, but I would not go for it. I’d be accused of being a liar, a faithless lunatic, a boy who cried wolf. I’d leave it all behind, if it meant I’d get to leave, if it meant I’d get to breath freely for once. God, what I’d do to take a break, to go on a leave, god, what I’d do to just get out of here. Would they accept me? Would they let me in? Would they shun me? Or perhaps erase me? If I was never made to be, what would I have become then? Would I have become an atom? A simple electron?
But I would never be answered.
Another day passed, and again I saw the sign, the curly haired girl. That curly haired girl will forever be in my mind now. So beautiful, so angelic, so much of what I wanted to be. And it was true to come, shunned I became, just before the day came to end. And after, the sign of the same curly haired girl and the hotline next to her showed in front of me again, and all I could see was her gorgeous curls atop her head. I wouldn’t make it home today. I’d make it home sometime soon, but not today.
Leaving my house, I’d make my way to the bridge. It’d ache me, and ache harder and harder as I get close to my final point. God, why do they act so horrifically? Why did they taint me? What do I do now? God, give me a break, let me go on a leave, god, what I’d do to just get out of here. Why won’t they accept me? Why won’t they let me join their friend groups? Why do they shun me? How do I move on? How could I go back the next day? The next week? The next month? The next year? What can I do now? Forgotten, I am, left to die, I am, left to rot unbeknownst to anyone. And off of the bridge, in the sight of that sign, I’ll finally be that curly haired girl. But no one will care. No one will know. No one will share my story, the story of that curly haired girl.
Author Sign-Off:
Hiii :D!! I hope you enjoyed, I love making short little things like these, reflections of what could be false reality, please write what you though and any critiques you potentially have. All criticism is taken respectfully!