• The world always seems to forget those who are never destined for anything more then average unless something wrong is done. The average single mother never gets credit for what she does for her kids. However as soon as she doesn't do one thing, society jumps down her throat and takes her kids away. It's funny how as soon as we fall off the path society feels we should follow we're deemed “black sheep”. We do nothing wrong our whole lives but the second we do or say anything out of the ordinary,our life is taken from us without a second thought.

    I realize this sounds completely crazy comming from a dead person's perspective but I feel it's finally time that I get heard for once. My life was taken from me when I was sixteen. As far as I had know I did nothing wrong besides take a different road home. Maybe that was my punishment for walking a different route. Maybe my mother had found out that I had skipped school that month so we wouldn't lose the house. Maybe my teachers decided that since I was shy that I should be an example to all the other shy students. Whatever the reason, I am now dead and writing this to you from my perspective of life.

    I must, however, admit to you that I was always a bit of a loner in school. I avoided people because I had a hard time trust them with anything. My family was always picking at my life choices, like the one to be alone. If I didn't met my football star older brothers standards, I was called anti-social. If I chose to read a different book then someone else, I was told that I was being “too literate” for my age and ordered to pick a new book out. Even when I sat in my room drawing quietly while watching either a movie or a TV show, my mom's boyfriend of the week would barge in complaining of how I was being anti-social and then proced to call me other names. This was the routine of my life; wake up, go to school, get insulted, come home, do chores, get insulted some more and go to sleep. The longer I kept this routine up, more robot like I began to feel.

    My school life wasn't much different then my home life. I had a few friends but I couldn't say we were close or anything. They decided things and I just put on my best smile and went along with it. I guess if one was to be technical I was faking my way through life.

    The week before the prom, we-I guess I really mean they- decided that a party was called for. Not a high school party but a college frat party. So me being the quiet mouse of a person I am, naturally I just bottled my insecuries up inside me and went along for the ride. When everything was said and done with planning the party someone, I can't remember who, suggested we all go shopping. Naturally, I had gotten a job at the only store in our rather small town worth shopping at. My so-called employee discount was hardly worth the forty some hours I put in weekly but it was enough to keep the group happy. Pasting on a genuinely fake smile that seemed to pass for real to everyone else, I happly continued flipping through the clothing racks to find outfits. I had skirts, shirts, tanks, layerable tee's, you name it laying on the counter just waiting to be packed and squirled away until the party. When it came time for me to find an outfit no one was around to critque it. I quietly muddled my way through the store putting away the disguarded clothes. My eyes fell upon a simple black halter top that was classy and yet discreetly revealing. Just as my luck would have it my manager came up behind me and noted the halter. Shaking her head slightly as she removed it from my hands and brought it up to the till.

    “Youll have to find matching pants or get the black leather ones to go with,” she said in her unusually mono-tone voice.