In life we meet many people hear their very different stories while doing so unknowingly we become a passive yet a very active character in their story. Some stories are complete and come with a moral; some are patiently helping other stories to be complete or are just as many things life incomplete.
My name is Rose and this is my story, one of my many stories of life. I think it was in my destiny to wither when my parents named me Rose, a flower of so many colors and character nevertheless a very delicate and fragile flower.
Opposites attract, it is said but life always manages to show the exception to “every” rule.
I don’t know how but I do know when I was first stricken by her popularity and beauty, I just couldn’t fathom how anyone could be so liked by the teachers and students alike and be pretty as well, I thought she had everything others could only wish for as they looked longingly in the mirror.
I was then just a new lonely scared girl starting my education in an entirely “new” school and with it came no friends a lot of negative attributes and feelings. I had all the classic characteristics of the lost lamb in a crowd of tigers; it was then she was assigned to help me out until I got fully settled. It was midsession and I appreciated all help. I had every reason to be. She had such power and hold on everyone that every negative situation was turned into positive for me, I was her friend or so only I thought.
Many incidents small and big showed clearly she was very popular among students and favorite of teachers and students alike yet she was not exactly how popular girls are portrayed in movies beautiful yes but mean and a bully no!
As I settled in the more I admired her, she to me was a pretty Doe and like a doe, she was easily frightened and scared; for protection always turned to others.
She sought help even when we, the others saw no need for any or so it seemed.
Once she asked me to buy from her a very expensive Hallmark card which at that time I didn’t even need, later its pieces made to the rubbish bin because it vastly contrasted with my taste. She had bought it a few days ago for her boyfriend but now wanted to give something else, she lamented how sorry she was to have bother me and told how she had tried but the “shop-lady” refused to refund her money, looking back I am surprised how easily I was fooled. I did not have the heart to say no, how could I to such teary eyed pretty face though it cost me my entire pocket-money for the month and more; the month had just begun rest I had to borrow or steal; mostly steal her idea entirely and I succumbed.
This was the beginning of a very long cycle for me doing tasks for her. It was all small thing for her all she had just say please and forget about it but for me, it was many sleepless nights, hours of hard work and worry. I was among the many who wanted to be friends with her because to be friends with her meant to be finally recognized as a living being in the school and in school among the brains, brawns and beauty; beauty always ranked first; so in truth, she never heard a no.
The cycle came to an end only in the final year of our schooling.
I don’t have the explanation or a perfect ending to go with my story. Maybe she realized the power the power of her beauty had on many of us, maybe I was being bullied without knowing her ways were so subtle, maybe I was just a Rose, maybe…a lot of maybe’s; I don’t know.