The Outsider - Original Writing

The Outsider - Original Writing

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The Outsider - Original Writing

"Mum, mum", she must not be home, I'll call her later she must still
be at the meeting, I'll put the tele on, see what Kacey's wearing in
her new video. It's on straight away on every channel, no surprise
there. It finishes with her on top of a building I, don't like the
song one bit, it's the same as all her others. I really like the
gothic powers new video but I daren't tell anyone, my friends will be
too embarrassed to be seen with me. Its not cool to like things like
that, the people who do like things like that haven't got any style,
and they don't follow new styles, hairstyles and what makes you look
good, they don't bother finding out the newest stuff, which is hard
not to because I wouldn't be able to ignore all the adverts,
billboards etc. These people also believe that singers like Kacey are
created by clothing companies and music companies and hair companies
as a living advert and she is an object of the media advertising
campaign for companies to sell there products. Only people who make
there own clothes and don't spend loads of money on expensive hair
products and clothes could think that.

I'm really upset about my old best friend Michelle she has started
liking all different types of music instead of just one and she has
started wearing different clothes to me, she says that she has seen
straight through all these fake pop stars, so my other friends won't
hang round with her and I don't want to hang round with her, even
though I get on with her really well, because every one will laugh at
me. Mind you, she has a lot of friends any way.

I'm going to get my hair done later on so I better get mum to make an
appointment, that reminds me I've got to phone her.

"Mum", it's me, what time do you think you will be home?"

"I will probably be home about five; I've got loads of work.

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" She
sounds stressful.

"Ok, I'm going down to get my tea at burger king"

"Alright, I've got to go sweetie, sorry, I'll see you later."

I put the phone down and look in the mirror, I like everything about
myself I know it is arrogant and vain but I love my face, with its
nice pale spotless skin and perfect blue eyes, my nose is not too big
or small and my lips are blood red and the right size, then I look at
my long blonde hair, its down to my bum, so smooth and straight, I'm
15 and the perfect weight for my height. I know it's wrong to love
yourself as much as I do, but I have reason to; I'm beautiful. I
collect my money, phone and keys and have another look in the mirror
on the way out.

The flat has just finished being done up, mum got a interior designer
in to do it all, everything is stainless steel and glass, really
modern like in all the magazines. That reminds me I take the new vogue
magazine off the hall table, lock the door and start walking, I skip
straight to the section on lipo suction, there is an interesting
article on celebrity lipo suction, I'm not paying any attention to
walking, just reading. come to the stairs, bare concrete steps, we are
on the top floor of these flats, we have got a penthouse suite, only
thing is the lifts haven't been installed yet, or carpet on the stairs
as these flats are brand new. I have completely forgotten about
walking I take a step down from the floor, it's a large step, too
large I clear two steps and the middle of my foot land on the corner
of the third step, I realise what I have done I lose my balance, drop
the magazine. I feel sick my stomach turns over, the same feeling as
when you realise you have left a wallet with loads of money in it, in
a taxi. I feel sick because I know what is about to happen, this all
rushes through my mind at the same time. Its happening in a split
second, next thing I know I am falling through the air, face first,
down a flight of twenty hard concrete stairs, I am lying horizontal in
the air, I see the bottom of the stairs closer, closer to my face,
closer, a few inches away.

"Jess, Jess, can you here me its mum," I feel pressure on my hand my
head aches I feel sick, I want to be sick. I open my eyes, I see mum
on a chair sitting down, and I hear her voice;

"She's awake" there's excitement in her voice, she is not talking to
me, a lady in a white coat approaches me.

"You're lucky to be alive", she says in a strict voice, as if I was
disputing the fact.

"Where am I? Arrrrrrrrgghhh." I feel a shooting pain through my face
as if I'm ripping it apart every time I stretch my mouth."

"Don't speak" the nurse orders, "you suffered a terrible accident, you
may not be able to remember it, you fell down some stairs."

It all comes flooding back to me I remember leaving the house I
remember the bottom stair. I close my eyes.

"Take deep breaths, in and out" whispered mum.

I'm bracing my self for my first look in the mirror after my accident
I'm getting my stuff ready to leave the hospital I have had one
hundred and twenty two stitches in my face and forehead in total and
two major operations. My face is still severely scared and I have a
massive diagonal scare running from my chin to my forehead. My nose
has had to be reshaped and my lips are beyond repair, they have had
ten stitches. My front teeth are all fake, and I have spent over a
month in hospital. All the bruising and swelling has gone down and the
stitches have been taken out. It is the first time I have looked in
the mirror since before the accident, I am nervous frightened and on
the verge of tears.

"When you're ready" encourages mum.

I hold the mirror up to my face slowly. SMASH. I drop the mirror
immediately am sick all over the shattered glass, mum screams, I cry.
I am hideous, deformed, I didn't recognise myself.

I sit on the settee, and bury my disgusting face in my hands I just
sit and cry with my mum hugging me. I am going to have to get used to
this for the rest of my life.

My first day back at school, I had received a lot of get well cards
from my friends but none of them had seen my face. As I walked into
the classroom I was shaking, I didn't think I could do it, when I
entered, the whole room went silent. Michelle was the only one who
stood up and said welcome back with a smile on her face. At break time
my friends just asked about the treatment and accident but didn't stop
looking at my face.

They were talking about going to a party on Saturday but they didn't
invite me. It was my friend Joanna's boyfriend's party. Joanna said to

"I'm sorry Jess, I don't think you should come, not yet people need
time to get used to your face, everyone will be looking at you."

I nearly burst into tears with anger and humiliation when she said
this and as soon as she realised the effect it had on me she said

"I'm only thinking of you Jess, I don't want you to be embarrassed",
as if that was supposed to make it better. When none of my other
friends stuck up for me it made me realise that they agreed with her.
I walked off without saying any thing, I realised I hated them and I
couldn't believe that something like this would have stopped them
liking me.

As I was walking across the playground I noticed out the corner of my
eye, Michelle running up to me,

"Jess, what's wrong?"

I started crying when she said this, partly because of how nice she
was being to me after I had ignored her for years and I felt guilty,
and partly because of how happy I felt that my face didn't matter to
her, that she would talk to me. I also wished I could be more like
her, I know that if what had happened to me had happened to someone
else I would of reacted the in the same way my friends reacted to me.
I wished I would have reacted more like her.

Over the next few weeks me and Michelle became friends again, she
hadn't changed at all, I had. I realised that when I was with Michelle
I could be honest about the clothes, music, hairstyles I liked,
whatever they are. Rather than only liking the ones advertised on the
channels I watched. The channels I watched were advertised on the
radio stations I listened to, that played the sort of music that my
friends listened to and what the advertisers and record companies and
media wanted me to listen to. The channels advertised the clothes that
the singers I liked wore, and the singers I liked only wore them
because the clothing companies paid her to. I found out that all the
clothing companies were owned by the same company, so I didn't have
any choice of clothes at all really. It was a vicious circle, and it
didn't allow me to like the things that I really liked. I was an
outsider and all my old friends were outsiders. Not Michelle. I
actually hated the things I used to like. I am a lot happier now and I
am a lot more secure about my face. Michelle even taught me how to
customise my clothes and do what I wanted to do with them.

I realised I was an outsider to my mind and my body. Now I am an
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