Far From Being Useless.

Sophie would always sit at the very end, not the cliché type of girl who would stuff her nose inside a dusty book, pretending to be shy so someone would talk to her.

Not that I could talk to her.

She’d sip her coffee, place her feet at the edge of the window, lean back and just take pictures of the ceilings with her old camera, and as soon as she got tired, she’d take another sip, a sip of cold coffee.

I always wondered why she even liked coffee in the first place, with it being bitter and absolutely disgusting, but when Sophie drank it she made it seem sweet.

But she was just another mystery ready to be solved.

And when she miserably failed to complete a painting of the window with watercolours, a chuckle escaped from my lips.

I remember how her eyes darted up and met mine, scared and lonely, and all I could think of was to say I’m sorry.

Yet I can’t, that’s the problem.

I can’t.

Mother always told me that, ‘Frank your special’, and things like, ‘someone will love and understand you for being special’.

She forgot to mention I’m a freak; one who cannot utter a single syllable.

Sometimes, it’s for the better, you know?

You’ll never be able to hurt someone, say something out of line, or something out of anger, or happiness.

But sometimes, it just sucks.

So when she said hi, it was one of those moments where everything just sucked.

Sophie always reminded me of the ocean, a blur of blues mixing together to harmonize what beauty is.

But then I look at her collarbones, her dead collarbones.

And then I see the ocean turn black, as people dump trash as if they are feeding the fishes.

But then my mind had this……. Tendency to drown the people that come with the trash cans, to take away those who dare to dump trash on you, and I didn’t need a hurricane, or a storm to realize this that I couldn’t do anything.

I just needed to see her dead collarbones, her saddening eyes, and how she threw away her food in the trash can after her parents shook their heads at her, screaming ugly, fat, yet she wasn’t, Sophie wasn’t.

Sophie’s beautiful.

And ever since she threw away her meal, my mind had been ticking like a time bomb.

tick, tick, tick.

You know those people who are beautiful, but not just by their looks but in what they say, and just how they are.

I have always been addicted to words, but I would think they are useless, and that I was too, I would ask myself, so is it true what they say?

That you become what you’re addicted to: useless.

Was I useless? Was I just another body? Was I just another name to the world?

But then I remember my Mothers words to me saying, ‘You’re far from being useless’.

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