MEG

"Red" they had dressed me in red of all things. My least favorite color. I mean c'mon on pale skin, permanent stained rosy cheeks and a big red nose that no amount of concealer could ever hide that I resembled bobo the clown. So why did my parents think that red would be an appropriate choice for my eternal soul. I know what you are thinking that when we die our spirts would be dressed in whatever we wore last, unfortunately that is not the case. For some reason  its whatever those we left behind decided to bury us in, otherwise I would be dressed in my favorite pair of hip hugger jeans and my cute off the shoulder purple shirt.

I am dead by the way if you did not get that.

It is strange really saying aloud, but it is true.

I looked around watching the "mourners" sniff and cry lamenting how I was so young in the prime of my life, how it was such a tragedy. If they had known they would have done something. The thing is I do not know half these people. I never had friends, passing acquaintances sure but never anybody I could truly talk to. I've always longed for someone who I could discuss boys with or even ask how my day went.

For the past nineteen years I've strolled through life, never really fitting in always on the outside looking in. The thing is I was not accomplished, brainy or beautiful. I was just Meg.

Just Meg.

That dreaded sentence I have heard throughout my entire childhood hunted me. While my sister AJ was told how brilliant she was I was just Meg. Every time our parents introduced us to their colleges it would go like this "Hi this our wonderful daughter A.J, did you know that she recently placed 2nd in the Olympic trials were so very proud... Oh, and this is just Meg our youngest."

Even her name was better than mine AJ, Adison Jane. I mean how could you name one child something like Adison and then name the other Meg. Not even Megan but just Meg. One would think I would hate A.J but the truth was A.J was hard not to like. I mean of course there was some resentment there but that was mainly aimed at our parents, not A.J. Tall strawberry blonde; not the carrot top red I inherited, with beautiful stunning sapphire eyes thanks to our grandmother, A.J was the full package. It was not her fault she won the genetic lottery. Plus, she was ridiculously nice, and I mean mother Teresa nice. So nice that when we were six, she saved up all her pocket and birthday money and donated it to the local animal shelter while I spent all mine on Polly pockets and chocolate bars.

Now as I looked around, I could see my perfect sister with streaks of tears running down her face while her boyfriend Thomas tried to console her. It was strange to see her like this, her once immaculate hair now tumbled down in knots while her makeup smudged. She did not look so perfect now I thought. Suddenly a sense of guilt hit me, I should not be relishing in my sister's misery, we may not have been close growing up, but we were still twin's.

I continued my tour around my wake, watching my mother take her fifth glass of sherry greedily while my father stood stoic staring at the fireplace. Neither of them had cried, not a single tear had been shed since I died which was not surprising, they had never been overly paternal. A.J and I were trophy's something they could brag about to their friends, and since I lacked anything remotely boastful, I faded into the background when it came to my parent's love.

I breathed out a sigh wishing for this show to be over. I knew that my parents were embarrassed about my death, this was just another thing for them to resent me for. The Johnson were strong, we never talked about our feelings we did not need to, and that was the problem. If we had been more open, more understanding maybe I wouldn't of....

I shook away that negative thought, no point living in the what ifs. There was nothing that could rewrite the past no matter how much we wish we could.

Maneuvering around the mourners I couldn't help but think.

We all wish to feel important that we matter to someone, that somehow, we made a difference. That our time on earth was not meaningless.

I scoffed at the sentiment, furiously wiping a tear that trickled down my face. I'm not important, I never did anything worth while during my short time on this earth.

Because here I am once again, on the outside looking in.