Once a Bad Person, Always a Bad Person

She couldn’t quite tell how many times she’d been here. Fuzzy, nothing, that is. Of course, if she told anyone, they’d think she was absurd. Fuzzy nothing? How could nothing be fuzzy? And how could she be there if it was nothing? But she had been. Quite literally for almost as long as she could remember. She’d only been turning 14 in a couple of months, and she’d been here for over half of it. She couldn’t do much, though. All she knew to do was to lay on the glassy, yet still fuzzy, ground, or what seems to be ground, and wait. Wait to wake up, wait to get out, wait for someone, just, wait.

But she was quite scared of the dark, and everything’s dark here. Closing her eyes wouldn’t help, it would only be darker. And the silence, most deafening. Afraid of the dark, afraid of silence, afraid of being alone, quite the coward she was. Poor, little. She longed for someone to come and get her, but deep down she knew no one would. I mean, the person she trusts the most wouldn’t even respond anymore. And so would all her friends. And her mom. And everyone who promised to be by her side no matter what. Even if she had tried to confide in someone about it, they always told her: “You’re too sensitive,” “Me too,” And if she tried to resolve it and confront everyone about it, they’d always somehow paint her the bad guy.
Maybe she was. Maybe she really was the bad guy all along. She was violent, controlling, bossy, loud, annoying, always the victim, blah, blah, blah. Couldn’t even be there when her friends needed her because she was “going through something” apparently more important, always so negative. A bad friend. Couldn’t and will never understand why she won’t always be top priority, a brat. A bad daughter. Couldn’t find the motivation to do anything, to study, to practice. A bad student.
Can’t even take care of herself, freeloading off everyone. A bad soon-to-be grown-up. Can’t even fit in, or have normal hobbies, always stand-offish and angry. A bad member of society. Can’t even be happy for others, or sympathize, or not be the victim for once. A bad person.

So even if she was afraid, she knew she deserved it. To stay in the fuzzy nothingness, until her foolishness pulls her out of it, only to throw her back in even harder. Once a fool, always a fool. Once a bad person, always a bad person.