I was always inspired by stars. Alpha Centauri. The Southern Cross. Taylor Swift. David Beckham. They helped people to navigate seemingly endless oceans, whether it was their lives or the Pacific. I always wanted to be a star. Shine bright and be someone that people look up to. But that’s hard to do when no-one will even look you in the eye.
As I walk through the corridors of conversation, I stare at the ground. They laugh and scream, hearing about “Katie’s latest boyfriend” or how they are “hyped for the party this weekend.” They all laugh, bitch, and cry over the same things, things that I’ll never quite understand, or be included in. As I drag myself down the hallway, I imagine myself a part of these groups. I could be a tall, slim, blonde girl, who’s always doing something social. They would all love my stories from last weekend’s party, or from all of the balls that multiple dates had begged me to attend. I could be the sports princess, who is always training, but is part of multiple teams who worship her. I could even be the smart smart girl, with huge ambitions and shining grade reports. Everyone would ask me for help in class, and everyone would say “she’s so smart, I wish I was like her.” But that’s not who I am. I am a no one.
Talentless, soulless, hopeless. Those ‘write something positive about me’ activities were a nightmare for me in primary school. Designed to help raise people’s self esteem, it completely demolished mine when I had ‘nice’ written on my sheet 31 times. It never felt like anyone really knew me. And as I grew older, so did my feeling of regret. Why didn’t I make friends earlier? Why can’t I make myself more likeable? Why don’t people know I exist?
So as I walked into the room I mentally prepared myself for the bloodbath which is a health class. Where you have to ‘share your feelings’ and ‘get into groups with people you don’t know’. Their faces gleam as they talk to each other, but as soon as they get into a group with me their smiles are immediately wiped away. It’s like they wish I didn’t exist. And sometimes, I wish the same thing. I don’t really know what I did wrong to make these people not like me—I’ve never been mean, and I’m not exactly the controversial type.
“So…” Sophie clicks her tongue, trying to find the words because apparently, she doesn’t know how to talk to people who aren’t drop-dead gorgeous like she is. We were tasked with talking about healthy eating, and this thin barbie already knew she was at least 40 kilos lighter than I was.
“I think that healthy eating is eating foods that aren’t loaded with calories.” she smirks, and then turns back to talk with her friends. I stare down at my stomach, poisoned with the idea of what I look like. The teacher stopped all conversations, and the area in which I was seated became isolated, like I was a killer lion that everyone wanted to escape from.
The worst part of all of this wasn’t how they treated me like I was irrelevant, or how lonely I was, but it was that I actually liked these girls. I just wanted to be their friend. I wanted to be able to hang out with them, and have them laugh at my stories and jokes. I wanted them to ask me to hang out on the weekend. I wanted to go on their beach trips and post instagram pictures with my toned stomach and teeny-tiny bikini. But that’s not what they wanted. They were the judges that decided my fate, which was a life-sentence of unpopularity. And so I would whine and complain to my mother every night, telling her that all I wanted was for them to like me. And she would always tell me to “Just be yourself.” Yeah. Like that would work. Even I thought my personality was bleak and rather unexciting.
I wanted to blame it on my lack of talent. I had to blame it on my lack of talent. I mean, you can’t become inspirational if people don’t have anything to be inspired by. Every afternoon once that blessed school bell rang, I went to some sort of side-quest that I was less than mediocre in. I played for a soccer team that was filled with talented players, I debated in a team that was filled with talented speakers, I performed with a group that was filled with talented actors, and yet I was still uninspiring at everything I did. I was the token ‘useless kid’ in each and every one of these activities. The one that the parents complain about on the car-ride home with their kid who is God’s gift. They’ll say things like “why does she even play?” or “I feel sorry for her, she’s letting the whole team down”, while my mother would just say stupid shit like “at least you tried your best” with sparkling eyes and a shining smile. But trying my best did not achieve the ultimate final outcome. All that I wanted to do was become something. Become someone.
And then I met him. I know, it seemed like it was as cliche as a trash Disney Channel movie, where the football player picks up the weird chick as a joke. As I was walking down those same haunted corridors, having no choice but to sulk about my fate, I lifted my head. I hardly ever lifted my head, as I was scared of the looks that I would receive, or the lack of. But when my gaze left the ratty blue carpet that I had become familiar with, I saw him walk towards me. And he was looking at me? It seemed peculiar, this tall figure with fluffy brown hair and scattered freckles actually noticing my presence. He smiled, his shiny white teeth taking a large presence on his face. I nearly ran away. It didn’t feel right. He was probably about to murder me or something, like one of those psychos you see in the movies who smile before they shoot someone. But he just continued to walk, and as he brushed past me he gave me a quiet “hey” before continuing his journey down the hall. He spoke to me. I was about to go and celebrate because things like this never happen to me, it was like I had just gotten a promotion I was waiting my whole life for.
The very next day I saw him in that same place again, giving me a sense of deja vu, as there is no way that someone would deliberately make eye contact with me twice. But as he saw me he slowed his pace, his smile still forcing him to radiate with joy as it did yesterday. And when he got closer to me, his fingers reached for mine, his grip soon forcing his hand to intertwine with mine, and pulling me around in the opposite direction. My throat soon closed up—I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t speak. He just continued to walk like everything was normal, despite the fact that he was holding the hand of a girl who he didn’t even know, even worse the weird girl that he didn’t even know. But I didn’t let him go. So as we approached my maths class, and it was time for me to leave, I hesitated. We briefly stood in the hallway, holding up a traffic jam of students who were coming from every direction. I turned to face him, and I could see straight into his lustrous brown eyes. He was gorgeous, and cute, in a puppy dog kind of way. He let go of my hand, and then said “See you later, Holly” and walked away. I stood there, being shoved and pushed in the hallway, with my jaw touching the ground. He knew my name? He must be a psycho stalker and want to kill me. Why else would care so much?
I walked out of the school building that afternoon, and suddenly figured out why. “Holly! Holly!” I heard someone shout my name in desperation.
“W-what?” I stutter, not actually knowing how to communicate with someone new.
“Come with me” the golden retriever boy says, as he grabs my hand and pulls me away. We walk a little down the street, with kids in our school’s uniform invading the area. We don’t say anything, but he still keeps a firm grip on my hand, which starts producing sweat and causes me to become even more nervous. We then approached a small café, one that I had definitely seen before. It was small and boutique, and he moved quickly to pull out a chair for me. I sat down, not really sure what I was doing. He rushes over to the counter and orders something, and then sits in the seat opposite me. “Holly, I wanted to ask you something before, but I was too scared that you wouldn’t be interested in talking to me.” I rolled my eyes discreetly. Just because I am quiet doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you, but whatever. “I wanted to ask you on a date. You seem like a really nice person, and I just want to get to know more about you, but I was afraid that you’d immediately say no, so I just brought you here without asking, so that you wouldn’t be able to say no without actually speaking to me first.” My cheeks turned rosy red, and I couldn’t help but grin.
“What do you want to know about me then, Mr curious?” I smirked, excitedly awaiting his reply. I would finally be able to talk to someone about myself. About me. Someone actually cared about my existence, and what I had to say. And to me, that was quite spectacular.
The date left me in awe, and the next day when I saw him in the corridor, I walked faster to get to him, so that he could grab my hand, and he did. “So what, am I your girlfriend now or something?” I giggled, feeling more refreshed than ever.
“If you want to be.” His whole face lit up at the idea.
“I guess you could definitely be my boyfriend.” I hugged his arm, as if I was securing him. He still looked like there were fireworks exploding inside of him. I could not stop grinning. I finally had someone who liked me. The tree outside glowed with promise, and we sat underneath it, our backs touching rough bark on the trunk. “Holly, why do you never hang out with anyone? Like I don’t mean to be mean but I never see you with anyone else.” He stated bluntly. I turned my head to look at him, then sighed and looked down at the ground.
“I don’t know, Callum. I don’t know.” I felt an intense need to break down in front of him, but I held myself together. I couldn’t let him know that I was weak as well as lonely. “They just don’t like me I guess. Nobody really does. I’m not even sure why you do.” a single stream of water fell from my left eye, but I made sure to wipe it away instantly.
“What do you mean? They all want to like you, they just haven’t gotten the correct opportunity to get to know you, because you haven’t let them.” Typical male. Always clueless.
“Like I haven’t tried. No one is interested in what I have to say, no one even cares that I exist.” My eyelids closed in order to try and soak up all of the water before I let it out. He suddenly put his arm around my shoulder, his fingers gripping my triceps. He then used that arm to pull me closer to him, so that our sides were touching. My head fell onto his shoulder.
“I do,” he said in a soft, lush tone. “I care all about you, and I wish that other people would too. You are one of the most interesting people I have ever met, and I am appreciative that I was granted the chance to get to know all about you.” I melted from the inside out, my cheeks burning. I was finally wanted. I was no longer the rotten tomato on the supermarket shelf.
Months went by, and the only person in the world who I cared about (apart from my mother) was Callum. He talked to me everyday, and his company was the only thing that kept me from crying in my room each night. “I want to be a star,” I stated proudly as we were walking to the café.
“What do you mean ‘a star’?” he chuckled, getting used to my random outbursts that I used to be too unconfident to have.
“I want to influence people, make them admire me and want to be like me.” I said, suddenly regretting my words because of how mindless they made me sound.
“You can be anything you want Holly, if you have the right drive and motivation.” Despite the fact that he sounded like he got that quote from my mother’s Pinterest page, I still adored it.
“Really though? I mean to influence people you actually have to like, be good at something. Or at least have lots of friends who think you are good at something.”
“You have me.” He smiled affectionately. I shivered, my body possessed by an unusual warm feeling, one that made me feel at home. After all this time, he still believed that I was some sort of great spectacle, like the Mona Lisa, or the Pyramids of Giza. And it started to make me actually believe in myself.
So I started trying to work harder in everything, become smarter, sportier, better. And he told me I could do it. And I seriously believed him. I was determined to become a star, his star. That is until I took a different route to chemistry, in order to try and catch up with him. That’s when I saw him walking down the corridor, with Sophie’s hand bound to his. My mind spun, and the world around me stopped. I could have fallen right through the floor from the dizziness. Callum wouldn’t cheat. He loved me. He inspired me, and built me up like I was his castle. It was just then when I turned into a pile of bricks. Without any thought I ran, in order to try and catch him. I grabbed his other hand as he had done to me on the first day, and forced a grip hopefully hard enough to cut off his circulation. He kept walking, Sophie noticing my presence. “Callum,” she said quietly, shaking his hand subtly. He looked at her, and then tried to release his hand from mine. When my grip didn’t loosen, he slowly spun to look at me. My mind was filled with anger, confusion and sadness. And he could see it. “I’m sorry Holly, I was just-” He paused to look at Sophie, who was still standing there like the little madam she is. “Holly, I can’t be with you anymore. All of my friends, they’ve all been saying stuff, and I can’t take it anymore. They don’t think it’s right for a guy like me to be with a girl like you.” Of course. It was always going to boil down to my social status. I was a no one, whereas Sophie was a someone. That was all that it took. And I realised that too late.
So I stopped trying. I went back to my old ways. I had no choice. Nobody wanted me, nobody cared. I was the unwanted rotten tomato again. But it was worse now that I had actually experienced being supported, and now I wasn’t. That sucked. All of the dreams that I had dared to dream, all of the inspirational quote bullshit that I actually believed in, was all pointless now.
I lie down on the small stretch of lawn outside of my house, illuminated by the porch light. I feel water soak my t-shirt, and my head falls back into the damp grass without a care. My eyes rise up to look at the night sky, observing everything that is in sight. I could see it all. The planes. The mosquitos. The occasional bird who forgot it was bedtime. And the stars. I could see what seemed like infinite amounts of them. All together, they made the world seem beautiful, somewhat like the stars in our lives. Our music artists, our sports people, our inspirations, all make this world seem to have so much potential and promise. And despite the fact that they all work together to make our society seem so accomplished, the only stars that people care about are the ones that shine the brightest.
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