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Writing|Story|Not As She Seems

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7 February 2010, 12:40 PM    #1
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This is just the beginning, I've written a lot more than just this, I've got to find my
memory stick so  I can upload more, But anyway. This is not true, I made all of this up.
So, I hope you enjoy it, and Please leave constructive criticism, I'd really appreciate
that. (:

                I am not perfect, as everyone seeems to think. My school life is much
different than home. Every morning, just like the rest of you, I have to look in the
mirror and accept who I am; who I choose to be. I am not pretty, nor intelligent as you
say. My appearance is a mask. My personality is fake. I am not Elizabeth Dawn as
you call me. I am not popular, nor outgoing. I choose to hide my reality from you, and I
refuse to ever let you know who I am. You say, I wish I were you, Dawn, though you
do not know me, and you never have. My birth name is indeed Antionette Elizabeth
Dawn, but that is who I will nevermore be. If I were still her, I would never survive.
I will remain anonymous forever more, and you will never realize this. I am not going to
break down the way you wish me to. I will not show my fears; my weaknesses. There is no
hope left for me, and it seems you don't care. Of course you don't. You don't know me. You
haven't been through this. You don't wear these scars as a constant reminder of who you
are. You can escape if needed, but I cannot. There is no heaven after this life, no safe
haven to run to. I cannot show fear. I cannot be weak. You will never realize that I am
broken on the inside, more-so than you could even dream. But you would never think of me
this way.
	You only see my shield, never my true self. You judge me by my appearance. You don't dig
through my personality. You look at the eyeliner I wear, you never see the reflection in
my eyes. Not that I would let you look long enough in my eyes to see anything at all, no.
I would close them faster than you could object. If you saw into my eyes, for even just a
second, you would see my scars. You would see the bruises that cover my skin. You would
see that I am far from perfect, and you would run. You would turn away, forget that I ever
existed. You would take back the words you've said to me, and your new words would be
those of pity. Words of hatred, fear, sympathy. I don't want that. I don't want you to
feel bad for me. Pity is cruel. It is a terrible thing and I would hate to recieve such an
evil gesture. I do not want to be looked at as a child. You are not treated as such so why
should I? You see me as tall, lean, doll-faced. You see my ice-blue eyes, and auburn hair.
You see my olive skin, my painted nails. You only see my make-up and the earrings i wear.
You never see my tears, and trembling body at night. You don't see my pain, nor my
mind-state. you can't see the scars and bruises that mark my skin. You never see the blood
I've shed. 
	I would never tell you of my reality. You would never understand. You would laugh in my
face. You'd say that I'm crazy; call me insane. As if you really knew. You don't wish you
were me. You wish you were what I pretend to be. You only wish that you had my physical
features. What if I weren't the way I am today? With Olive skin, and ice-blue eyes? What
if I were short, obese, Ivory toned, with black hair and hazel eyes? What if I wore
glasses, and had braces to correct my teeth? Would you wish you were me then, just as you
do now? Of course not. The short, ivory outcast that you so fervently hate is my hero. The
one who does not socialize with shallow, cold-hearted people such as yourself. She does
not wish to be you. She accepts herself, and would not change for anyone. I wish I were
her. However, that's only a dream. One you will never discover. You tell me how my
life is perfect, how I should live in a fairytale; a storybook, rather than this hell you
and I are forced to call life. 
	But if I am so perfect, if I shouldn't live where I do, then why must I continue? You
label me. You judge me based on what you think you know. You will never know the
true facts. 
	Anything I've told you of my life is a lie. Anything of my family that I have said was
pathetically false. Though you believed it. You believed every pathetic excuse I made as
to why you could never set foot inside my house. As to why I couldn't recieve calls after
school. I could have said anything, anything at all and you would have believed my every
word. I told you I go out of town every weekend, not to return until sunday evening. You
didn't even ask to where. You didn't question me as I thought you would. Even as my lies
got more unrealistic you never asked why. Does this mean you are gullable? Of course it
does. But it also means you didn't care. You didn't care to suspect that I was lying. You
aren't persistant. So you're just as pathetic as I. You're just as fake as myself. But
you've no reason to hide from others. Just because you don't get everything you want, you
lie. You don't see how shallow and materialistic you are? Or is that another thing you've
hidden? My hidden traits are kept away with reason. I don't want to show how vulnerable I
truly am. Not when you would beat me, just as they do. You wouldn't hurt me physically,
you would mentally beat me. You would say the most terrible things to me, and even if I
were horrified, crying so hard I could no longer breathe, you would continue. But that
will never happen, as long as you never discover me. And that's something I will
never let happen.

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