My Poisoned Life   by Miriam Ostermann       Feb 2005

     I’m sitting in front of my desk trying to start my English homework. On top of the paper it tells us to write a paragraph about what you most like about yourself. The truth is I don’t like anything about myself and I have twice as many flaws as the average person. I have good reason to say this, as it’s true: I’m not pretty and I have acne, I’m fat and I’m lazy; I have no friends and definitely no boyfriend, and worst of all I have no self-esteem or courage.
      I am sitting there with a mind that’s blank, when I suddenly get interrupted by a startling yell from downstairs. I have a hunch my mom has just opened my report card, and as talents and grades are just not some of those things I possess, I know it isn’t a good sign. My name echoes through the hall, and what a terrible name I have-Ursula-Gertrude. I decide I shouldn’t make it worse, and slowly get up and make my way down the stairs. The walls are covered with pictures of my mom and me. My dad isn’t in any of these pictures because he ran out on my mom shortly after I was born, so it’s really my fault that he left.
       I approach the kitchen dreading what may happen any moment. My back is slouched and I’m trying my hardest not to look into her eyes. The more I try to look away the more I feel her anger staring at me through her eyes, and any moment she will explode. As the silence continues, I fear that one of these days she’ll slip up and tell me that I’m not the daughter she wanted. A sudden feeling of fear and hate crossed themselves in my stomach. I really hate feeling like this, I must be the only person on this planet that feels this way. I can see how my mom tries to focus all her anger into a calm voice, “would you like to explain this to me?” Her hand is shaking and my report card is clutched tightly in her fists.
      “Not really,” I reply honestly.
      It happens like a flash and she yells at me like she has never yelled at me before. I try to stay calm but all I really want to do is yelling back. Finally, her speech is coming to an end. I say something in a small voice, and I don’t even know the words. I am so scared, that I’m just mumbling.    
      Suddenly she realizes how scared I am and hugs me; telling me that she didn’t mean to yell at me and that she’ll help me in the future. I explain to her that I’m disappointed in myself and that I will definitely try harder. I never really tell my mom anything unless she talks to me about things first. I know I will feel ashamed if she knew what my life is like. After our conversation I feel a lot better and I walk back up to my room.
      The next morning I hurry, when I realize I am already late for the bus. I chase it down a couple blocks and get on at a totally different bus stop. It takes me a whole five minutes to find a seat. I squeeze in with a little kid. He is wearing glasses and seems to be very shy. I sit close to the front as I don’t dare to sit in the back, and search through my bag only to find out that I forgot my lunch. Out of nowhere a paper ball hits me in the head, and the bus breaks out with laughter. As my eyes are slowly filling with tears, I look up at the bus-driver who’s eyes are fixed on the road ahead. My eyes are stinging now with tears, but I don’t want anybody to find out and start to look around for something to focus on. I crouch down in my seat, feeling small and hating my life even more. I know now, that I am my worst enemy. Why can’t I get up and defend myself?
       At school I get off the bus. There are a lot of people at my school but for some reason it feels as if they are all looking my way. Maybe it is because of the way I dress, or my hair. Other girls have such perfect hair. They either have bouncy curls or smooth slick straight hair. Mine is always greasy and full of dandruff. It’s not that I don’t try, in fact I have tried every shampoo in the store and none seems to work. I make my way inside and sit on my chair. School starts and in the next hours I feel just sitting at home would have been a better waste of time. My teacher asks each one of us to come to the front of the class and read out our paragraphs. I hate talking in front of people and they hate seeing me up there, at least that’s what I think. I’m sitting there in my seat and I’m starting to sweat; a huge amount of butterflies fly through my stomach. After each person has finished their paragraphs, I hope beyond hope that I won’t be called up next. It’s no use, however, and when my name is finally called, I too walk to the front. Just be brave I tell myself, but how can I be brave when thoughts like, do I really have to do this, creep up on me. I barely get out words but I begin my small speech quickly and quietly. I talk about not having goals or talents, but I do have wishes. I tell my whole class that I wish I had more courage. When I finally finish and rush back to my seat, a boy in the second row lets out “loser,” disguised by a cough. The second time today I am ready to cry. My life isn’t fair I am thinking. I should be used to this, this is what happens everyday. I feel helpless and sorrowful. Not even my teacher notices.
       Lunch is the worst time for me. I just sit there and occasionally a few people walk by and start whispering. I get so angry with myself, some of these people must be nice why don’t they ever come and talk to me, I’m not that terrible, or maybe I am.
       I get back on the bus and instantly someone is quoting me on my paragraph. People laugh along and add things I never said. I try to ignore them but it’s very hard. I hear someone say, “as if she’ll ever have anything close to courage.” These words ring in my ears for a while and the voices seem to get quiet and I can barely hear them, also my vision is just one big blur. I get out of the bus and run to my house. In front of the door I collapse and tears stream down my face, I can’t hold them back anymore. It’s hard for me to breathe, and my crying gets louder as my breath gets shorter.    
       Suddenly I am calm again. I stare at one spot on the ground and think about my life. There is only one way to prove them all wrong. I am not a coward, I do have courage. In seconds my plan evolves. It is the only way to get rid of the me I hate, and leave the life I have right now behind.
       I open the door and run into our apartment. My mom isn’t home and I drop my bag into my room. I draw three deep breath and tell myself it’s now or never, this is the time to change. My mind is made up, I check around my room and then leave to go down to the basement.
      Our basement is quite handy and I quickly find what I am looking for. A thick rope is hanging from the ceiling. I try to get it down but it is too tight. On my toes, I tie a knot and it now resembles a noose. I climb on a chair and examine my work. “Right,” I tell myself. I place it around my neck and jump.

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