Stories

A Different Type of Person

From behind she wasn't much to look at. At least not in the clothes she chose. Baggy jeans and sweaters concealed a figure that was naturally yet comically well endowed for her stature. She was not the type of young woman to often call attention to herself. It is impossible to observe the comings and goings of the world when all eyes are on you. The grandstanding was best left to those who did not understand the value of observation.

The girl saw, on a daily basis, evidence that her generation would self-destruct well before their time, and it pained her. The clues that she saw were seemingly benign and therefore not immediately startling. She saw the young men in pants four sizes too large and some four sizes too small and wondered why, even though proper pant sizes were easily acquired, everyone decided to show the top portion of their underwear. She saw the young girls, bragging about plans to become wealthy by pursuing an acting/singing career and eschewing all academic efforts. The girl wondered why academia was scoffed at while "sure-fire fail" plans were praised.

The final clue could be heard from sunrise to full dark, day and night. The brouhaha is never-ending; such vile, filthy mouths that cursed so freely. These people, barely out of childhood, swore as fluidly as sailors with about a third of the creativity. The days when swearing was reserved for sharp pains, surprises, and the occasional rant are over. It is common to cuss in front of parents, mentors, priests, even the elderly—who sometimes seem so put out by the noise pollution, she fears their poor old-people hearts will give out.

The girl watched. The girl listened. At the end of the day she would go home to mourn and build her memorial. A shrine dedicated in loving memory to "common sense" and "self respect."

There was no explanation for the proverbial "burned bridge" between the girl and her peers. She had no patience for their blatant disregard of positive role models. To be fair, although some people her age found her interesting in small doses, they soon grew tired of her idiosyncrasies. What they found fun, she found dull. What they found important, she found unnecessary. What they called music, she called noise. To be fair, what she found fun, they found weird. What she found important, they found weird. What she called music, they called weird.

If she had wanted to fit in all she would have needed was a foothold. Some correctly pronounced slang and a pair of booty shorts would have made her quite popular. But in truth she had no desire to connect with anyone. From what she could see close relationships bred only weakness and tears; with luck a person may experience some fleeting sense of happiness. It was the girl's belief that if an emotional connection caused any pain at all, it was best and, in her opinion, quite easy, to sever all ties to the stimulus.

The girl continued to believe this until her undoing came in the form of a six-foot man with an attitude problem and exceptional money management skills. She did not mean to fall in love; it was a complete accident, and she had done all of the right things to avoid it. The girl made sure all of her "flings" lasted less than two months; she only called when she needed a physical release, and she was always honest, which is a surprisingly strong turn-off to most men.

The girl fell in love. And then her life ended. She lost herself to this man, and the kicker was that she knew it was happening and could not force her traitorous body to put an end to the disease of love. The girl compromised on matters that had previously been non-negotiable and even considered bringing a life into this world to make him happy. The girl was quite content "playing house" with her imaginary hypothetical husband, and she wanted the feeling to last.

The girl continued to feel contentment until a reality check came in the form of a five-foot-two woman with an attitude problem and exceptional time management skills. This woman was her mentor, and she was usually right, so it was hard to ignore the truth she gave. She did not mean to lose track of her life goals; it was a complete accident.

Now that the girl was forced to step back and survey her life, she could see that she had choices. The girl could continue to be in love and stay with the man who seemed to fit her soul, or the girl could go away and finish school and reach her career goal. If she stayed, would she be motivated to continue going to school? If she left, would it be fair to ask him to wait eight years for her? Her life had reached a cross roads...and there was really only one decision that was obviously the right one.

Most girls would have stayed but she left.

squaresLauren kay


I was born somewhere in Los Angeles in February of 1990. Since that day I have worked hard to remain creative and honest in all of my ventures. Eventually I would like to become a D.V.M. and own my own home. While I enjoy creative writing, I do not do it very often. My life and my autobiography are best described as works in progress.