Roxanne pondered her life as tears of mascara rolled down her face. “What did I do to deserve this?” she wondered as she sobbed her heart out. Her existence was that of someone considered less than human, one that was freakish. A mutant to society, she was laughed at and deemed scary by many around her. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she was accepted, for all but a few were disgusted by her. She wasn’t fat, and many would say she was beautiful, even sexy if they didn’t know her. It wasn’t about looks, but it was about outward appearance. She had such a kind and tender heart, and such a bright mind. There was always one person she thought of when she was put down: Joe.

Joe had so many more friends than she did. She was just as social, but this wouldn’t ever matter. She was fit and curvy while Joe was big and fat, yet he was still chosen over her. Noone cared to get to know Roxanne, and they would avoid any of her life stories and experiences. She was just as smart as Joe, actually a bit smarter. She didn’t receive recognition, though. Both of them had things missing in their lives: happiness. But only Roxanne was missing hope.

She walked home from school to hear kids yell “There it is!” A windy day, Roxanne embarassingly liked the feel of a breeze up her skirt. She wondered if she would be able to walk home in high-heels. She wiped the sweat off her brow and put her curly brown hair in a ponytail as she went upstairs. She said hi to the dogs and thought about how they’d be happier to see Joe.

The depression was hitting hard so she walked into her new room to sleep. She walked past the cans of pale pink paint which covered only half the walls, the rest dark blue. She laid down and just before falling asleep she heard her mother say “Joe was better.”