Mental Illness

Here's a very short story I wrote in July 2010 in one of the writing games I used to play with my best friend Anna.
The rules were we both had to write about a mental illness (hence the unimaginative title) and we had a time limit, I've forgotten how long the time limit was though :)
Hope you like it
:)

I looked up at the sky and touched a plane, plucking it from the smoothie pink sky and pretending to munch on it.

I smiled to myself as some people my age stared bug-eyed, too scared to even attempt to bully me.

It was nice.

It was a change.

I used to get bullied a lot.

It’s because I’m different, because I see things differently, the better way.

The fun way.

They used to call me names and push me about.

I used to cry.

But then one day, one day it all stopped.

And people have been avoiding me ever since.

People say I didn’t mean it.

My councillors.

The doctors.

My mum.

Everyone.

They all lie.

I meant it.

Every second.

Not many people deserved what I gave Launa Davids.

But oh my she did.

She was hurting me first.

She was poking me, making me feel uncomfortable.

Putting me out of my comfort zone.

A dangerous place to be.

A very dangerous place to be.

I thought I did well.

I held it all in until it was too much.

She got what was coming to her.

No praise came.

It confused me.  It still does.

I’m glad people avoid me now.

I like being on my own.

It’s so much more company.

I like things just the way I see them.

I hate being told to look at the world through blurry eyes.

Their eyes.

It’s so dull.

Life seems pointless when I look from their perspective.

So I stopped looking.