Whispers Of The Self-Conscious

“Look at her, she’s so ugly.”
“Yeah, just look at her clothes.”
“What does she think she’s doing here?”
“She’s a loner.”

Whispers of people talking and laughing about me reach my ears. I try to ignore it as always and look the other way. But no matter where I turn, I hear the same whispering, I see the stares of people, and I feel their eyes on my back.

I try to walk normally, swinging my arms rhythmically. Soon, the natural movement becomes more robotic. Forced and unnatural. Everyone is looking at me and I long to be out of the crowd. By the time I reach the train station, I am drenched in sweat.

“Mummy, why is that girl like that?”
“Don’t look at her! Come, follow Mummy down this way,” the mum pushes her daughter farther away from me.

“Yeah, that bitch doesn’t deserve to live. Why does she even exist?” I hear a boy on my left talking to a group of his friends.

“The train is approaching in ten seconds. Please stand behind the yellow line,” came the announcement over the speakers.

He’s right. Why am I here? Why should I withstand all this pressure? What am I living for? Is it worth it?

I hear the train approaching and without thinking, my legs move of its own accord and bring me towards the edge of the platform. People are screaming at me to get back but I ignore their voices. As the train rushes on towards me, I take the last step forward.

Ah, it’s finally so peaceful and quiet.

---

“Ma’am, your daughter stepped in front of a train and committed suicide. Do you know why?”
“That stupid girl always thought people were talking and laughing about her, ya know. I’m telling ya, it was all up here – in her head. She was born a wacko from the time she was born. Shoulda send her to the looney bin earlier. But oh well, less one burden now,” the elderly lady cackled.

“She should ne’er been born.”