Monday, May 19, 2008

   .....Rant.
I feel as if everyone is moving on without me.
Like I'm stuck in one place, while everyone else is surging forward.
No, worse...i'm walking backwards.

In 8th grade I was a gossip queen who loved boys to death and wore pink...alot.

In 9th grade (this year) I'm more of the: I don't care about your secrets, boys are overrated, pink is the color of MURDER type.

Angst? I think not. More of what my friends were like in 8th grade.

This year...everyone is going girl on me. I was hated in 8th grade for being a 'girl' and so, i guess subconciously, i morphed myself into what they used to be: A tomboy.

My girlfriend is the only one who's stayed a constant. She's always been a completely honest (slightly bitchy), not a tomboy but not a girly girl and she still is. She's Faben. I guess that's why I like her...

I was under the impression that I just went through my boy stage wayy before everyone else and therefore, got over it. I figured that everyone else will soon be brought down to my level and all I have to do...is wait.

...obviously, I was wrong.

A picture slammed me down to earth. A picture of one of my best friends, or...i used to consider her a best friend...

she looked so different.

...she looked...like a model.

She was gorgeous and I was used to seeing one of those normal, awkward type of girls with slightly bushy eyebrows and blemishes.

Her picture was...cold. Hard.

...her eyebrows were done.

My little happy go-lucky, everything is finally going good for me train ride lurched to a stop and I stared at the picture for five minutes. I searched for even a tiny glimpse of the girl who went to school with me.

but, she was gone. No longer was she an awkward girl, with tangled hair. She was...i mean, she looked...perfect.

And as I stare down at myself, I feel my heart drop into my stomach. I want to cry, (like I did last year so much,) but I gave up my tears to be like them...like my friends. The tears are burning in the back of my eyes and I refuse to let them drop.

My mind is racing with the thoughts...

am I living a dream? do i even know what's going on with my own life?

I've become Kiya to please my friends and I willingly lost sight of who I was born. Zakiyyah is gone now, and I'm scared that she's been murdered. I can feel the blood staining my, black painted, fingernails and I want to scream. I want to throw the computer at the wall, appalled at what I see.

But I sit. And I stare. I don't move and I don't speak. I let my fingers fly across the keyboard as the tears burn in back of my eyes my heart races and I pray, to a god that a year ago I believed in, that this is all a dream.

That the girls and boys I knew are still there and that I'm just making something out of nothing.

My heart is steady now. My eyes no longer burn. And although my hands shake, I know that I'll be fine.

I was...rather pathetic, when I think about it.

I changed my whole self for people I only knew for less than a year. I dived without a floaty into shark infested waters for the very people who used to laugh at me behind my back.

The people I call my best friends were only that AFTER i changed myself.

And...I can't bring myself to hate them. I can't bring myself to care. Because, Kiya is always happy and although she has her own problems she'll push them down, down, down, into the bottom of her mind and draw up sympathy. She'll listen to your advice and throw her whole self into making you feel better. She'll laugh at your jokes, when they're not funny at all. She'll laugh at herself if it keeps some of the embarressment away! Kiya is happy go-lucky. A girl, who has family issues up to her eyeballs and is drowning in self-loathing. A girl, who no matter what happens, will never ever tell her best friend that she looks ugly in that dress. Kiya is a man-made robot. She's...just good enough that she seems normal. She's made of ice and ash and theres no flame. On the outside, she's burning, her friends call her the 'human-heater', she skin is always warm but she feels cold. Her mind is constantly racing with the 'what ifs' and she's surviving.

Zakiyyah would have cared. She would have fought with herself and her friends, not caring if people like her, not caring if what she says makes them angry.

EVEN NOW I'M HOPING AND PRAYING THAT FABEN NEVER SEES THIS ENTRY, BECAUSE I KNOW SHE'LL LABEL ME A NADIA AND I COULD NEVER. ever be able to live with myself if Faben hated me.

I'm no longer Zakiyyah.

My heart beat is no longer racing and the shock of the slam to earth had brought Zakiyyah out for just a few small moments. My mind is twisting. Kiya...is back.

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