I spend extensive periods of time in the bathtub. As impossibly insane as that statement may seem, I promise you I’m entirely normal. Well, as normal as a girl with blue hair can get at this day and age. I suppose normality is overrated anyways. But I spend extensive periods of time in the bathtub and that’s how this story begins.
I sat there encased in the warm water, allowing my fingers to wrinkle and shrivel like prunes. I noted the leaky faucet drip droplets, one by one, every six seconds, into the tub. My left hand was hanging over the edge of the acrylic basin, rapping against the edge. Each breath rippled the water outward, exactly six waves of ripples would go through with each breath. Today seems to be a six type of day. Scrutinizing my feet, I stared down the chipped black nail polish on my second to biggest toe on my right foot. The audacity of it all.

As the water grew cold, I hit the drain switch and remained in my sitting position for the fifteen minutes it took to fully drain out the tub. It was now one could hear those dripping droplets making an irritating plunk noise against the bottom of the tub. Slowly getting to my feet, I wrapped myself in a soft, fluffy towel the color of snow. A mass of blue curls was knotted up on the top of my head, so when I shook the hair tie out, the escapades of ocean curls cascaded down to my mid rib cage.

I stared myself down in the mirror. My seemingly lifeless face was nearly the color of my towel. Retrieving my cosmetics, I began to apply them in order to look barely tolerable in a fashion still not typical to society. I suppose I never have been that kind of girl anyways. The task of dressing myself was far from difficult. The usual black skinny jeans and band tee, where I encounter the usual problem of shades of black not being cohesive. I teased my hair slightly and went on a mildly aggravating adventure, in search for the magic pair of black converse. Quite rare to find.

Clambering down the stairs, my entire family was sitting at the table having breakfast. I rolled my eyes. Their attempts to be a modern, happy family are almost as pathetic as the way they stretch the sociological standpoints on the word family. I grabbed my house keys, not even returning the slight wave my mother gave me. If my father lives under this roof, she gets no affection from me. As simple as that. Down the aging porch steps onto the sidewalk, I kicked a rock that was in my way. I paused with a glance at the sky. It was as if flies hung in midair. I gazed up at the sun that was rising over the trees. A beautiful array of orange dancing over the coming blue abyss we call sky. Such a golden glow that penetrated the trees in a matter where I was giving off a vast plethora of arduous breathing. Thoughts that had been blank were sudden receding into a whirlpool of pastels and hard pinks. My voice was in my throat but I felt like I was singing. The view was humming in my ears and rocking me to sleep in a cradle of desire. I felt my mind start a broken record player of Robert Frost’s Nothing Gold Can Stay, I finally understand what Ponyboy and Johnny found that day. An astonishing view to walk off into, like an ending epilogue of my life story. But the destination I was headed for was far from such a beauty.

Schools are walls fill with tragedy and hallways drowning in tears, where scuffed sneakers and deep circles underneath red eyes are the usual. A building crawling with teenage angst and infested with inner demons of lonely kids whose parents can never understand. Crumpled papers and shattered dreams are recycled, only broken heart fragments are considered garbage. Stereotyped faces are masking addiction, unconditional self loathe, and regrets; uncomfortable "I love you’s" and incessant drama. High schools hold whispers in their walls, rambles ranging from one cheerleader to another about how our football team is falling apart to how that chick in the homeroom is a freak. I like being the freak anyways.

The hallways of my school being painted grey did not help that matter of a depressive emotion lingering over the school; like a smoke rolling out of the mouth of a rogue dragon. But today of all days, he decides to start the trouble. His name does not even dare slip off my tongue, it’s poisonous to me. His toxicity brought me to a low where no girl before eighteen should have to see. A place in my heart that is ripped so violently from me and a section of my mind where my self esteem once resided is empty. I stand at my locker, the grey metal cold against my hands as I run a finger down the pictures of my friends and that beach where I wish I could evaporate into.
The words fall off his lips like a droplet of water falling into a pool from a waterfall. So easy to say, but such harsh words reach my ears. I look down and kick the bottom of my locker. For someone who got nothing from me, he seems to have taken quite a bit. I kept my head hung low as I meandered down the hallways, my figure nearly nonexistent in the crowd of faces. His new girlfriend “bumps” into me. I retract my body from her and try to move on with my life. But that was not her intentions. I’m backed up against someone’s locker, my eyes narrowed in on her clenched teeth. I swear under my breath.

“Watch where you’re going tramp” she hisses, eyes boiling with anger. Even the hallways paused to assess the situation. A crowd circled around and I kept my eyes on her mouth. Fear was evident in my eyes, I didn’t ask for this today. Or any day. “Got it?” her chubby face got closer to mine. I suck in a breath, but say nothing. I was not looking for a fight. Her boots were toe to toe with mine, and those jeans that looked slightly too tight on her made her stomach fat stick out. She wore a band tee of some Indie group I didn’t bother with, and on her knuckles a singular promise ring. Probably from him. She was paler than most, but not as pale as I. Her speckled skin was bruised in multiple places. I almost wondered if he turned physically abusive. I shook the thought off, he wouldn’t go that far, would he?

“Did you hear me, freak?” she growled. I felt everything stop. Before I could catch my words, they flung like knives towards her face.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” Mind over matter began to kick in. I spit on her shoe. I saw the infuriation surge through the chords of her neck and whip across her eyes like a lion pouncing for the kill. I chose that moment to duck. Her fist came in contact with the locker and I heard her squeal in pain. Quickly, I crawled under her and stood center of the now oval of people. A slight glance gave view of my peculiar group of misfit friends, all in utter astonishment. All four foot eleven of me was up straight, and for once I wasn’t looking at the ground.

“Who do you think you are?” she screeched.  I shrugged and rolled my eyes.

“I’m the freak. A simple basket-case. Who do you think you are? His girlfriend isn’t a title won honey. He’s white trash with nothing going for him.”

“I can see why he dumped you! You’re such an ugly-”

“An ugly what? A loser for being different,” I ducked her swing again, “Ugly because my hair is blue? Fact, I’m an intelligent enough human being to realize I deserve better treatment than what he gives,”  her fist came in contact with my jaw, but I did not fall. My face was throbbing, a swelling immediately began. A few stars danced across my vision but I dare not shed a solitary tear. She came back for another hit but I sidestepped, watching her crash to the hallway floor. I crouched down and looked into her bitter blue eyes.

“Because honey, I guarantee you he treats you like you’re nothing. People don’t change.” I stood up, dusting my jeans off. I paused a moment, seeing her crippled form laying defeatedly sobbing on the ground. Maybe on a different day I would feel bad for her, guilty even. But you can’t fix stupidity. No one dared to move. A teacher pressed through the crowd and started questioning everyone. I pushed past everyone, walking down the hall to class like nothing had ever happened.

Perhaps he doesn’t treat her like she is nothing. Maybe even so, she is his princess. I would like to believe that much. But the look in those frightened blue eyes gave it all away. The many nights I have seen that terrified look, upon my own face. Staring myself down in a game of who can blink last. Excessive days crying because he told me I wasn’t pretty enough to meet his friends. Altercations where I was led to believe I was lucky to have him, lucky to be treated this way- they were all wrong. As I sat in my Biology class searching for my breath, I noted the tension in the air. Where each person in the room now saw I am not the weak one. I am not the one who is the loser or the freak. I’ve always been the strong one, and he’s the weak sniveling worm he will always be. And I will always know better. Because no one, not a single person on this earth, can take away my blue hair from me.