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Leftovers

Hello, I am an amateur writer aiming to break stigma and generate more understanding and informative content about mental health.

Last Night I Had This Dream

A performance. That was what we were going to do.

We practiced; everyone knew what to do except for me. I simply couldn't get it right. Some of the girls tried to show me how. But I still couldn't get it right.

I was embarrassed.

I was anxious, I was scared.

I wanted to cry.

I watched these girls dig through the costume bin, picking out what they would be wearing for the performance. I watched them and waited until they were done.

They were all laughing and having fun with each other. Digging through the bin together.

They weren't making fun of me. They were not even paying any attention to me.

I waited for them to be done so that I could go through the leftovers myself that nobody wanted.

I went through the bin. There was very little options left but I had an idea of what I wanted. So I tried to make my idea with what was left.

The items I picked seemed almost too small. While everyone was changing into their costumes right there, I went off to the empty locker room, where I was alone.

As I was changing by myself, I struggled to fit into the clothes. Everything felt tight and awkward, and I was embarrassed to go back out there. For some reason, I had hoped someone would come in and tell me that they liked my choice. I had hoped that someone would come in and be kind to me.

And it's not that nobody did. Somebody did, she came in and asked me if I was alright and that was when I finally felt seen. I felt cared about.

But,

Something still didn't feel right.

I still had this feeling that I always seemed to have.

Unable. Small. Insignificant.

Judged.

© 2022 sunnwrites

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