Yellow Cardigan

This is only one of the many ups and downs in life.

Draping over her shoulders a yellow cardigan, she slowly shuffles towards the metal railing and drops the backpack hanging heavily off her shoulder. As she gently sweeps her fingers over the cool, grey surface, it proceeds to caress both palms, skin littered with cuts and fresh bruises. They're watching me.

From up on the school rooftop, she sees two types of specks moving about the front courtyard: one, the colorful specks hurriedly chasing after another group of brightly colored dots, and two, the dark dots slowly shuffling their way to the school's gate entrance. Chocolate orbs narrow at the sight, face now casting a dispirited look. How typical in this damned school. Everyone's either alone or a social butterfly... well, I've got not right to say this, though.

Heaving a sigh, she averts her eyes to look at her worn-out shoes and furry cardigan; short, stray, marigold-colored fleece strands sway swiftly to a gentle breath of wind, the clothing illuminated by the setting sun's golden rays. Her shoes, however, do not shine as brightly. Stained by mud and what people assumed was "red paint", she creases her eyebrows in disappointment. Hideous, they say. Oh, so hideous, I hear them say. The young adolescent's heart clenches painfully in her chest as she recalls the familiar words, hands then moving to calm the overwhelming pounding. It hurts. It hurts so much, yet I can't do...anything.

Pale, cracked lips tremble in realization at her own worthlessness - at how she can't even save herself from this wretched society. They purse together despite the now-noticeable split in her bottom lip, and she refuses to flinch, for that small, insignificant pain is non-existent in the face of what her chest feels right now.

A sudden heat spreads over her cheeks, gradually rising to her eyes. However, the teenager merely bends down to zip open the jet-black backpack laying against her skinny legs, shakily fishing out white earbuds and a scratched-up, dark blue MP3 player. She considers them her treasures - the only treasures she has - because she knows they will become what's left of her when she leaves this corrupted, unfair world. 

Sneakily, a voice murmurs in her head. 

It asks her if she's tired; it questions her ability to go on - to continue living with empty promises and goals in store for her.

Yes.

Yes, I am done with how others look at me, and I'm tired of the fact that I can't do anything. I just-- I just want to get some sleep and rest without having to think about tomorrow! All that suffering I go through every day, every moment, every year... Please! Please...let it all end today. 

...

The difficulties she's experienced, the hardships she overcame all meant nothing the moment she heard her parents' last words.

At the age of 13, the innocent, fragile, shy daughter finally realized that solitude was her only friend. With the people she cherished and loved - with them taken away from her by the grim reaper called Life, she crumbled underneath waves of depression. She knew she drowned in the stranded waters of loneliness, and she never forgot that. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many times she downplayed her situation, the girl couldn't brush it off as if it was nothing.

...

Traveling up her figure are are the earbuds now tucked safely in her ears with the MP3 playing a slow but powerful song. As the music starts, the deep, muffled bass and light singing fills her soul, her mind, and racks her body with vibrations. The fact that the warm voice completely envelopes her beating heart amazes her. It always gives her the gift of courage: the confidence to stand proud, to speak out loud, and even the confidence to believe in something.

This time, a quiet voice resolutely overlays the quiet the murmurs created from her dark thoughts. 

That's wrong, and you know that. You aren't tired. You are not exhausted at all. No, you're just getting started with this absolutely ridiculous world. If this entire universe goes against you, all you need to do is fight it. Fight back. Prove to others you aren't weak - prove, prove, prove it! Trust yourself, and believe in your abilities to move...

The rapid pumping of her blood and heart creates a nice beat for the song flowing through the no longer weak-willed female.

 

...to speak...

Lungs inhale deeply, both palms reaching out for the metal railing once more and gripping it stronger than the first time. It is finally -- finally, at last -- time for the music's climax, the highest point it can reach in all its glory. 

...to shout!

Now, the main chorus drops and makes her eyes shine with a brightness like never before.

"I hate this world, I hate it!"

"Everything it took from me, all of them!"

"I will beat this world and make it regret all the things its done, I promise!!"

  Her voice rises and rises until her throat become sore and the climax dies down. Leaving the earbuds in, she backs down not out of hesitation and regret, but  out of an unseen boldness hidden away 'til this day. She then, without a single pause, swiftly turns away from the glowing, setting sun and disappears from view.

If words could describe her emotions, it would definitely be...

"I feel beautiful"

...and that goes the same for everyone else like her in this twisted, cruel, unforgiving place.

Author's Note

I'm aware that I place commas in weird/wrong places, and I know my vocabulary isn't exactly that developed (yet). I'd still appreciate it a lot if you took the time to include those things in your review(s).