Page 139 of One More Kiss

Perfectly Imperfect

Sarah Stein

Tori

“SITAT THE BACK OF the bus,” George ordered right before the bus arrived.

My brother made it a point to direct us to the back of the bus as soon as we stepped inside. He hated sitting in the front, though he never mentioned why. I wasn’t sure why he wanted us to do the same, but we never questioned him. We were leaving Gale High School and heading back to our house. I bumped quite a few people as I strolled with determined steps all the way to the back of the bus. I huffed a huge breath the moment I sat on the seat. A piece of ripped leather chose that moment to scrape against my palm. The bus seemed to be falling apart, but that was nothing new.

The town I grew up in, Galestown, was old and poor. It was no wonder the school couldn’t afford to upgrade the buses that carried us to and from school. I looked up just in time to see the rest of my siblings climb onto the bus. I was the middle kid of five, though only four of us attended high school. Right away, the driver closed the door, put the vehicle in drive, and in no time we were heading out of the parking lot.

Every school day, I would sit in the same hideous seat and contemplate life. Today was no exception, the bus continued to roll down the street as I thought about my present life, and even the past. This was my last year of high school, my senior year, and thankfully, things weren’t the exact same as they had been in previous years, especially when it came to bullies. So many times, I was told how weak and ugly I was, how I wouldn’t amount to anything. I was told that no one would want someone who was poor, smelled of smoke and had more hair on her arms than most guys. I was told that because I looked more boy than girl, nobody would be attracted to me. I was told too many shitty things at such a young age.

The worst of the bullying started when I accidentally smiled showing my teeth. They were yellowed, and crooked, being a child of five left no money for things such as teeth. The front two had overlapped making it look like one large tooth. Whenever someone noticed, comments like saber tooth, and buckteeth were thrown my way. Words that struck me to the core. Those words sunk in, wormed their way into the depths of my soul and almost destroyed me. Not from one problem alone, but from each separate problem.

Every single time I was teased I couldn’t breathe; the anxiety took hold. I couldn’t believe how ugly kids could be. What’s even worse was the parents of those kids were no different. How could bullies exist? I thought it was because the bully was also being bullied, but no one knew. Funny how their terrible nature caused ugliness when I was considered the ugly one.

Looking into the mirror, I saw every flaw and detail from the words uttered by those terrible people. Acne covered the entire expanse of my face. The moment I hit puberty; I had a difficult time maintaining a clear face. I also noticed the shortage of meat on my bones from lack of nutrition. Teenagers could be so cruel not realizing how jarring their words were, or how deep they could hurt, so deep that it caused the weakest of people to slit their wrists.

Not me. I wasn’t that weak. Not even close. What helped me you ask? Well, every day after school I’d hide away in my room, pick up the bristled, large brush that lay on my dresser and then turned the radio on. I’d flipped the cassette player over so I could sing along to the mixed tape I’d recorded. That tape had been recorded over so many times, I thought eventually it wouldn’t work anymore but that one tape never failed me. It was the one thing I relied on at the time until one Christmas when I was given a CD player.

I’d continue to stand in the mirror and belt the lyrics to all my favorite bands. At the time it was Country music. Never in my life did I think I’d be a singer, but a girl could wish. I was too insecure, too afraid to get on stage and show the world the semi-talent I had. Instead, I put forth all my frustration, anxiety, insecurities, and anger into the lyrics. Some days, I’d stand in front of the mirror numb as I tried to get into the song, and some days the lyrics would be so powerful that tears would trail down my cheeks. On those days, I hated my life. I hated who I was and wished I lived elsewhere.

The thing was, at that age I thought my life sucked, that my life was over. I really believed those people and the terrible words they spoke. Little did I know at the time that it wasn’t the end of the world. Life would go on. People would change, and I would continue to love music the same way I did back then. Being the target of a bully was horrible, but life would continue. I think that’s something that should be taught to kids who were on the receiving end.

Anyway, the insecurities continued even now, though the bullies no longer existed except inside my mind. I snapped out of my thoughts for a moment and looked around. No one chose to sit with me, I was still alone. Sad thing was that not even my siblings sat with me because they had their own friends and their own lives. Oh, well, life wasn’t always kind even if it was your own family. I was transported back into my thoughts, thinking how often I believed those bullies.

Even to this day, I’d keep my hair down as it was past my waist. The length allowed me to wear it in a way that hid most of my features and the acne, I couldn’t get rid of. I tried not to smile and if I did, I’d refuse to show my teeth. My parents couldn’t afford the creams for my face. My best bet was to wash it every day, but that shit didn’t work. Trust me, I scrubbed and scrubbed only to end up with redness taking over my face from the amount of skin cells I’d scoured off. They couldn’t afford braces, and honestly, at the time, I never thought of having braces. They weren’t on my list of things I needed.

Then, there was the smoke. There wasn’t a thing I could do about the smell of smoke always on my clothing. My parents smoked inside the house, it was an integral part of my upbringing, as integral as the siblings that surrounded me. If you could get past the smell, then it was a win. Hell, I didn’t even know I smelt that way until the teasing started. I wore dollar-store perfume and lotion, but I believed it worsened the smell.

To this day, I would look around and notice the popular girls wearing fitted uniform shirts with skirts and cute accessories that matched. I’d glance down at my top and bottom that were so large they could fit a person twice my size, and I wished I had the means to wear what the other girls wore. Nothing fitted me as I’d had hand-me-downs my entire life, especially since my parents couldn’t afford to purchase more than one or two uniforms for the school year.

At such a young age, a kid didn’t realize the price of clothing and all the necessities. Maybe my parents didn’t care about me like they promised was all that ran through my young mind at the time. But I was way wrong on that part. If anything, they cared more for me that I ever realized.

Eventually, my insecurities led me, and it wasn’t a good thing at all. I wasn’t into anyone my age. Honestly, I wasn’t into dating, but when I noticed my sister’s getting attention in that department, I was a tad jealous. Why wouldn’t boys look at me? Was I that hideous? What was so good about them that was different from me? I always wondered why I was never noticed. Needless to say, at that age, most of the guys who were attracted to girls wasn’t straightforward. That meant, no one knew about the attraction. Teenagers were so naïve, and I was no different.

The first guy I took an interest in should have been a red flag. Why? I was fourteen and he was close to his twenties. Yeah, I know. Huge mistake. What did I know about dating and relationships? That little bit of attention made me think I was in love and that I couldn’t live without him. Stupid thing to think, but that is how I thought because after everything I was going through emotionally; I was honestly an A/B student in school. It was probably the one real thing going for me, but my emotions ran me once again.

Every day I’d come home, do my homework, and wait for my boyfriend to get off work. He had a job, and he had a truck. Sometimes, he’d pick me up and take me for a ride around, or just spend time with me. Before you think my parents were terrible for allowing that to happen, well they were terrified I would run away if they tried to stop me. They tried stopping me, but I guess I was rebellious. I just craved the attention. Every time they would put their foot down, I rebelled even harder. At one point, they thought I no longer dated him, but I still did behind their back.

Attention. Attention. Attention. That’s all that truly was because I was a nobody. No one knew about the emotional pain I was suppressing at the time, hell I wasn’t even sure what was going on with me.

All good things came to an end though. Even though it wasn’t really good to begin with. Months later, on Christmas Eve my boyfriend chose to reveal to me that he had cheated. Why he would ever tell me on what was supposed to be one of the most magical nights of the year, I couldn’t truly explain. I was torn and broken, and those insecurities came back in full force. Not like they ever left. Why would he cheat on me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Well, for one I was a child still growing up. I had a whole life ahead of me but at the time I didn’t understand.

It was for the best. I never loved him. It was infatuation because of the attention I got and looking back I am now aware that he was emotionally and physically abusive. I never realized those things until I’d grown up and thought about it. He would shower me with attention, but at the same time throw tennis balls at me and slap me. He’d tell me I didn’t love him if I didn’t do specific sexual deeds. Geez, I was so young, dumb, and stupid. Still the teasing and anxiety continued. Thankfully, I held on to my V-card even through all of his bullshit.

Everything that I was experiencing with myself had intensified tenfold. My life felt like a wreck. I got bullied in school and it turned me into a raging bitch. If one person looked at me the wrong way, I’d snap. No, I’d never literally gotten into a fight, but words were thrown. Even though I was suffering, my grades were immaculate. I was told by a few of my teachers that I’d be able to apply for scholarships for college assistance. Each time they mentioned college, I froze up. What did I want to be when I grew up? I couldn’t tell you.

I figured I would grow older, meet my other half, have children, and work in retail or fast food. My parents struggled, so I figured as an adult I would struggle too. I grew up thinking that a woman’s place was in the house and a man’s place was in the field. I grew up thinking I wouldn’t amount to anything even though I had the means to succeed.

My way of thinking was so far off, it scared me to think of those things today.

There were so many jobs I didn’t want, like a teacher, a cop, retail, fast-food chains and so forth, but what did I hope to be?

I had no clue. I couldn’t be a doctor since the sight of blood literally made me cringe. As much as I loved to sing, I couldn’t be on stage since the thought of performing literally froze me in place. I wasn’t good enough to even be an adult. Those words came back full force. You’ll never amount to anything.

I was literally the worst critic of all. Telling myself over and over that I was no good.

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