The Best Always Fall
I dance.
As every second ticks by, the world seems to grow more somber.
In my head, bells ring and alarms go off with the beat of a lifetime
– there’s never a tranquil stillness.
I dance
in every movement; I swear to live life the way it’s meant to be.
Down the hallways in school, I leap and turn
and try to ignore the perdurable stares.
I dance because I should;
I dance because I want my life to be a continuous murmur, undisturbed by shock, sadness or misfortune.
Everyone stares at Becky.
Her long red hair is often times pleated into
stringy
straight
braids.
She wears hand-me downs from the Salvation Army
and thin
broken
glasses.
Her skin is spackled with freckles,
and bright flaming acne.
I never knew why they ostracized her – laughing and pointing.
Every time they snubbed out her existence,
my heart would break into two lonely pieces
and I would stop dancing.
My movements would slow and my mind would stop churning at its low humming rate. I’d stay perfectly still to give her the respect she deserved.
Because of this, Becky resided in the library.
Becky’s mind was like a clear pond on a summer day.
It sat, still and pure,
unwilling to be disturbed.
Her mind often wandered into its own depths.
She was not given the liberty
or privilege
to divulge her inner workings to the beating and living.
Forced to retreat, she drew into herself,
as if her body was a shell,
and her thoughts were to be hidden from the world.
They believed Becky was the unlucky one but,
sometimes I thought
she was one of the blessed ones.
On a fateful, winter day
as the snow poured down in fistfuls of frigid sheets
and as the students stamped their feet across the hallways,
they started to entertain themselves by making fun of
Becky.
I had stopped my dancing,
and nonchalantly stared.
The thumps of my brain quieted down.
It had never been like this before;
they were throwing icy balls of snowflakes at her
with menacing smiles on their faces.
Before my heart could make its premier flip of the day,
I rushed in with a few turns
and grabbed her hand with a smile.
Her hand was cold,
and it felt as if icy daggers shot through her fingertips
like a defense mechanism.
I hoped,
and completely expected,
that my smile could cure almost anything.
Oh!
What pure optimism that was!
Her hand slipped out of my grip;
the ice never melted.
Before she turned her back to me,
she gave me one last look, it was of
solemn
horror.
Then, I saw her falling over the ankle of another.
Her feet slowly crumpled beneath her
before the rest of her body
collapsed.
A salty droplet rolled down my cheek.
Why do the best always fall?
I wrote this the other day after pondering upon my own experience with bullying. I felt exactly like Becky, and wished there had been a girl with a beautiful, dancing heart to save me. Maybe I wouldn't have fallen. Just something to think about - the normal teenage angst :) I hope you guys enjoyed this poem, it's something different (originally a VERY short story). Leave a comment of a critique (if you have one) down below!
-Christie
