Whether it is an old story that I wrote for a silly English assignment or just some sketchy drawings, it all goes here.
Requests are Closed for Art Stuff
I'll be having up to three spaces open for any art requests you might have. I'll be doing it during my spare time so it might take awhile...
Three quick sketches and colours I did this morning as a 'wake up call' sort of thing. (Yes, I wake myself up by drawing something.)
Also here is a short story I wrote last night before I went to bed... just because. o___e;
“Get out of the way fatty!”
Great. I’m in a rush outside to get to the lockers so I don’t arrive late to class, and I just have to meet him of all people. Christopher Logan, like usual his habit of spitting insults to me whenever we meet has surfaced once again. It makes me wonder how he can be one of the ‘popular’ kids. Actually, I wonder how he has any friends at all. Considering all of the things he says to me on a daily basis.
“Come on, move it. I’m in a bit of a hurry. I’m going to be late and I don’t want the teacher to be getting mad at me.”
“Man, I’m really going to be late now. Look, it’s already dark out. Oh wait, it’s just you. You’re just so fat that I can’t seem to be able to see the sun. Sorry.”
Damn. I can hear my classmates around us quietly giggle to themselves. I don’t know what annoys me more, the comment that he just made or the fact that the people around us find it funny.
After Christopher’s speech of my so called fatness, he starts to comment on how ugly I am. My classmates are still standing there at the sidelines, still quietly laughing at me. I’m seriously getting sick of all of this…
“Will you just shut up already!?”
Crap, I didn’t mean to yell at him.
“Oh, is Miss. Fats-a-lot getting angry now?”
“Stop calling me fat.”
“I didn’t exactly call you fat, I just implied it by putting the word fat into the name I just called you.”
“Then don’t say anything that implies that I am fat.”
“The same with ugly...”
“Whatever. Lard face.”
“Hey! I just told you-“
“Yeah, but you’re not the boss of me. You’ll have to be more like me, like a boss.”
“You’re so dead.”
“Oh? And may I ask, as to how you are going to kill me? You won’t be able to touch a single hair on this godly body of mine.”
“And why do you say that?”
“Haven’t you noticed? You. Have. No. Friends. You stupid idiot. And me? Hmmm. I’m adored and worshipped by more than half of the people here at school.”
I can’t say anything against that. No one has tried to stop Christopher’s insults yet, and no one has tried the many times this has happened before. I really don’t have any friends. After all, who would want to be friends with an ugly, fat and stupid idiot that is hated by one of the most popular kids in school? No one, that’s who.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“I said shut up!”
“Well, this is a first. Fatty is getting violent. Now you look a gazillion times uglier.”
“Maybe drinking some milk will help.”
“Please, just leave me alone.”
“Or maybe chocolate milk would be better.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
Crap, crap, crap! Why? I’m not hurt, but my eyes are tearing up. I can feel my face turn red as it gets warmer. Everyone’s staring at me. I can feel them looking at me as if I were a lunatic and I can tell, they’re still laughing.
“Awwwww. She’s crying. Fine, I’ll leave you alone for today. You’re already in a pitiful enough state as it is. Bye, fatty.”
“I’m not fat!!!”
I’m not fat, or ugly, or stupid, or an idiot. I know it for a fact. His wrong, everything he says is a lie. It’s all a lie. It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.
But maybe just a little bit.
After all this time, maybe just a bit.
It’s starting to hurt.