Synopsis: An anonymous note found at a library table in Lawndale High
Hello. Chances are this note has landed in the hands of somebody stupid. Please, at least do me the favour of leaving this where you found it instead of throwing it away. If you actually care to read what I have to say, this note is a desperate attempt to describe what I see as beautiful, to the people I see ignoring it. I'm writing this note because I would never say any of it in person. I have an unpleasant image I focus on maintaining, and saying this to anyone personally might jeopardize that. Still, I am under the foolish notion that I should say what I feel, so here I go.
I have lived in this cow anus of a town for my entire life. Just your average secluded, protective suburb, as you should be well aware. I can count the nonwhite students in Lawndale High on one hand. Now, I'll give a very quick overview of my life so you have an understanding of my mentality. In elementary school, I was the quiet kid who paid attention in class and went home crying whenever the other kids made a joke at his expense. In middle school, I was desperately lonely and became the class clown, acting like a buffoon despite having the highest grade in my class, just to surround myself with bodies I could call 'friends'.
By the end of middle school, I was incredibly depressed, and realized why. None of these people were real to me. I was their jester at school, nothing more. So, over summer, I talked to nobody. And when high school began, I had altered my external personality drastically. I put more effort than I can describe into being perceived as loathsome, in order to cut all the worthless strands I had tied to myself. It worked. Now, I use this lovely false identity as a sort of one-way mirror. I can sit and mentally analyze all of my peers, and they try their hardest to avoid realizing I exist in any context other than the one I present to them. It humours me that nobody even considers that I might be slightly intelligent, despite the fact that I am one of the highest ranked students in this hole of a school.
So now that you have the set-up, time to move to the problem. It frightens me how you all look at filth and see beauty. I can name so many names. You are probably nodding, agreeing with me that those damn 'preppies' are all a bunch of naïve fools. Will you still be nodding after I say that the damn girl in all her black gothic attire is just as much of an insecure Barbie doll as those girls in the fashion club? How about that the theatre, painting, and literature clubs are, paradoxically to their 'enlightened' and 'open minded' points of views, among the most elitist and self- gratifying groups of hacks that I have had the pleasure of meeting? Of course, I don't come off any better, do I. The misunderstood writer dispensing immense wisdom on why everyone else is wrong, and then expecting to be thanked for it. Still, as long as you don't know who I am, it doesn't matter.
Beauty is rare enough to find without everyone casting it away like shit. And embracing shit as beauty, I might add. Lets take a look at what I mean. The fashion club consists of four girls. They do nothing of importance, say nothing significant, and add nothing to anyone's lives except for themselves. Yet despite this, the mere fact that they are openly dedicating their existences to the pursuit of what is enforced as beautiful is enough to make them well known and popular by the majority of the school. At least ninety percent of the males attending Lawndale High are all under the thumb of four girls, because they accept what they have been told is beautiful. How does that make sense? Do you understand how many girls you are ignoring, how many of them are likely just as pretty, only with less makeup, and likely much more intelligent? How the fuck does that make sense?
Oh, but you aren't one of them. Of course you aren't. Maybe you are one of those fools who spend all of their time saying you are misunderstood and looking for your literate and angst-riddled equal. People who think like that are sheep, and people who think that people like that are sheep are sheep, and so on, infinity. The moment you start worrying about maintaining an image and looking for someone who suits it, you fall victim to the same magazine idolizing idiosyncrasies of the fashion club. Except, your fashion demigod will be made up of Hot Topic instead of Waif.
I could do this all day, but the rest of you are too obvious. Sports only date sports, right? Of course, there are always exceptions. Maybe one or two. There is one football player I have seen who is actually dating a girl out of interest for her personality. Although, I must admit, they were pretty much given knives and placed back-to-back against this white-bread town, so they may very well have started out as blind as everyone else. At least they seem like a truly decent couple now. Fuck, what a tangent. Let us swing back to where I was leading you. It is pointless and annoying to scream that someone has a problem and then shrug when they ask you what to do about it. So, allow me to enlighten you. What is beautiful?
I've noticed a girl, recently. It's funny how that works. I've known her since elementary school, but I've only noticed her this year. She was not one of the idiots I entertained in middle school, which makes me feel embarrassed that I ever stooped to that level. She is in a couple of my classes. 'What is so special about her?' you may ask, after I have spent such a generous amount of time insulting what you may find attractive. Well, from everything I have seen in how she thinks and acts, she is utterly bursting with life. If you look into the eyes of everyone walking by in the halls, they almost seem dead. It looks like you could punch someone in the face and they might not even blink. This girl looks more awake than anyone I have ever seen. Intelligence is not the issue. She certainly seems intelligent, but she isn't exactly a star student. Still, her comments have a flavour of personality missing from the vast majority of other people. God, I wish I could talk to her seriously, at least once. I don't even care if she likes me, but to have her mind focused on speaking to me for even a moment would be a brilliant thing. This is the one dent in my facade. She hates me because of who I parade as. I have ruined any chance of becoming friends with her.
Don't think that I just find her attractive, either. Physically, she would likely fade into obscurity if it weren't for her personality. If you took away that, she would fit in perfectly as just another one of the art fucks in the painting club. She definitely has a 'generation-who-gives-a-fuck' artistic look to her, with the black tights, boots, and crimson lipstick. What separates her from the deadwood is that she is obviously dressing like this because she enjoys it, not because it fits her ideal self-image.
She hangs around this one girl, who also strikes me as a decent human. This other girl's utter lack of makeup is a nice unique look, but she just doesn't strike me as being as interesting. She seems to use elitism and intelligence as defenses against partaking in life. Still, I can relate rather well to this friend of the girl I find beautiful. Both of us are too weak to deal with reality, so we hide behind an obscenely complex mental barrier, although we go about it in almost opposite fashions. She seems to think the best offense is a razor laced defense, where I think that the best defense is becoming as offensive as possible. I do not admire this friend like I do the girl, because she is truly honest about her emotions, which is such a rare and unique trait in a human.
She is also antisocial to the point of bordering on hermitic, but unlike her friend or me, it is more of what she finds preferable than a shield against being hurt. She dives on anything she views as enjoyable without fear. She is the one who starts a conversation, or says the obvious that everyone would rather just allude to. She is the one who wants to go to a party, regardless of downfalls, just for the possible experiences. I can almost visualize her mind flirting with the obscurity of everything.
All of this is admirable, but it is not why I have become infatuated. She goes even further than I ever could, and truly sets her apart. What has gotten me to begin paying attention to her so compulsively is her artwork. In a painting class I share with her, I found that a couple of her paintings are displayed along the walls. It amazes me that this someone could be so confident with herself that if she had the talent to utterly convey her emotional complexes on a piece of canvas (which she does) she would be undisturbed with these personal tablets being taped on the wall to be ignored and mocked by philistines such as, oh, a quarterback, for instance.
Now, have you even noticed a girl like the one I am describing? Or have you been too busy looking at the members of the opposite gender who wear the fashionably appropriate sexy attire they are expected to? Have you ever had a real relationship? I sure as hell haven't. I'd rather be alone than with somebody who is nowhere near as beautiful as this girl I have described for you. You don't need to be in a couple to enjoy life. And you don't need to be personally engaged with someone to admire the integrity she has. Sadly, I have become so used to hiding in the dregs of school society that opening up sounds too perilous. I'm going to sit here and let something good pass me by. At least I can watch it and dream.
If you have made it all the way down here to the bottom of this little monologue without skimming, I thank you. I would like to think that whoever reads this is one of the few people who are awake to life, and that maybe something will come of them reading this. But, no matter who you are, all I really wanted to say was that you should try and look for beauty in life. It can be depressing when it looks like you are searching in vain, but I swear, there is always someone hiding in the background who can make life worthwhile.
Disclaimer: Daria belongs toMTV.
Send criticism to firstname.lastname@example.org. Thick, steaming criticism that I can use as an oil over my soft, delicate skin.