Tables of Contents
Who Am I?
My story was written as a class assignment with the title assigned. Each student had to write a paper with an assigned title and another student was tasked to read it in front of the class. My paper was read in front of the class by a rather embarrassed boy who drew chuckles after reading the first line.
Who Am I
Iím an average girl. I laugh, I cry, I feel. Why am I here? I want to know. Do I really mean something to you? Or am I just another page in your ďbookĒ you call Life?
How could you choose her over me? Am I nothing to you anymore. I thought you said I was your everything and youíll never let me go? Would you catch me if I fell? No? Itís funny how your true colors show, especially when sheís around.
Where am I? Iím standing right in front of you. This was our place in front of the lake. Do you remember? Or are you trying to forget? Have I become invisible to you? What would happen if you saw me with him? Would you turn your head? If I laughed with him, held hands with him, what would you do?
Remember when we used to laugh? We would lie beneath the stars and the world would just get quiet. Can you see it? Can you see us together? We would walk for hours and talk about nothing. You never had to impress me? Why? Because I fell in love with your imperfections. In love with you? Yes, you. You took what I thought was real and made it pretend. You took me for something I wasnít. Did you think I was an experiment or just your girl for the week? Well, that week spent with you felt like a lifetime to me.
Do you know what itís like to hurt? Or are you incapable of feeling? Did you ever have that pain in your chest? The one where you canít breathe? It feels like thereís a weight crushing you, closing off every entryway of air. Thatís how I felt when you said it was over.
Are you on to a new page in your book or are you still stuck on mine? Are your eyes still stuck on that page? Does the sweetness in these words remind you of me? Am I the only page marked in your book? I guess Iíll never know. Iíll never know if you still think of me. How do we really know if itís over? Iíll look at you wrapped in her arms. Can you feel the hatred? The blank face that looks upon you?
Could I ever have you? No! Itís impossible. I wouldnít lower myself to that standard. Will I think of you still? Sometimes. Will you know how it feels to be forgotten? Yes! Iíll make it happen.
Did you lose her too? She wasnít what you wanted? Oh! I see. Youíve made another mistake. You want me back? Will I be willing to take your hand again? No. Iíve moved on and found someone else. Who? Guess youíll never know. You still havenít turned the page in your book? Well, Iíve turned mine. Now YOU can search for answers. Feel hurt and pain like I have. Your book will go undone, but mine has already been written.
Reach Meredith through Ron, her Grandpa, by email to comment: email@example.com