[1] Parties Suck

"I don't want to wear this dress, Amara." I whined, trying my best to give her my not-so adorable puppy eyes and a pout.

Amara paid me no mind and sighed the umpteenth time today. Wringing her hands back and forth, she examined my position in front of the mirror.

"It's not my fault that the outfits, more specifically the party wears, never suit you. They either never fit you or never match your skin tone." She shook her head.

At Amara's bitter voice, I felt the pit of my stomach drop, and also the urge to punch. Still, I managed to keep my face blank.

Something bad might happen if I didn't.

Amara helped me out of the stupid gown that was sweeping the floor. Before complaining she should've checked my measurements. I guess being my personal fashion designer since childhood had given her the attitude that she could say whatever she wanted without minding her tone. If I could, I would have had her fired. And since I can't because apparently, I'm "too young", I have to put up with this shitty treatment.

I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of all those people who loved to criticise my appearance. Was wanting that such a bad thing?

Fuck my genes. How was being short my fault anyway?

If anything it should be my parents' fault but of course it isn't. It would never be since they have all the employees charmed.

None of them liked me for some reason. They all knew the emotional neglect I faced since my childhood days but still continued treating me as a rotten and spoiled child of a wealthy family. Which I can assure you, I'm not. They didn't even take orders—, okay requests, from me when I asked to bring them something that was like in the other building of our mansion. Like why are they paid to be my helpers then?

Amara was one of the best examples.

After dressing me in a black satin off shoulder frock, the product of an hour of angry-scouring the closet, Amara left me in the dressing room, leaving without so much as a good luck. She even had the nerve to blast, uh, slam the door shut.

I know how blessed I am, to have everything I could ever want or need being given to me in a silver spoon. I really do. But then people went around testing my patience, checking to see if I would blow up like a lit explosive. And then possibly get me grounded.

So even if I didn't want to admit it to myself...life truly sucked.

Everyone I knew sucked really. No, correction, everything she knew sucked. She could've gone on and on about the things that sucked in her mundane life, maybe even write a ten page essay about it (if I was Hermione I mean). If I really did, a majority of those papers would be inked with the one thing I hated the most in the world.

Parties.

I couldn't for the life of me figure out why drinking booze from red plastic paper cups enough to fill a bladder, eating a very unhealthy, slimy pizza and grinding against each other as you danced was considered fun in the first place. And with that making out like animals with all that stench. Why are people so fucking weird?

But maybe that's how normal is supposed to be.

Who knows?

All those films and books I secretly read glorified parties. Those things told me they bring out the joy in people. That it lets them connect, and have lots of fun. They also went as far as showing how enchanting and fabulous formal parties get. As if.

Formal parties suck as much as the mould that's been on my yoga mats since forever.

But then again, if it was partying with my non-existent friend, I would've been just as excited. Probably. Couldn't be too sure since parties have too many people.

And I don't like people if you couldn't tell already.

People are so hard to deal with, especially when you have to speak in front of a crowd who are not interested in what you have to say. Even if you're supposedly the heir of a multinational telecommunication corporation. Because most of the time that I ever spoke in public, instead of being given approval and applause, it backfired and ended in a disaster. I had horribly embarrassed myself.

I don't wanna talk about it. It's not hard to guess what I did wrong after all.

Think about all the things that can go wrong when you are unprepared for a speech. There you go.

Even so, for some reason, I had a good feeling about today.

Perhaps today would go fine. Perhaps I wouldn't have too many nosey people to interact with. Maybe I could even eat my forbidden dessert at the table. And the troublesome thing of a stage fright might change today since I was well prepared in what I had to say in front of the guests.

Those positive thoughts lasted till the moment I had to step onto the stage.

Oh, how wrong I was.

[2] Interaction-, I interact...Yes

The white glossed dressing room was particularly unsettling for my nerves. The white panelled window...the white walls, white furniture, white painting frames, white everything! Wasn't white supposed to be one of the calming colours? It only made me feel more fidgety if anything.

After contemplating whether I should run from home or not, I sit down on the white plush sofa, deciding that it probably won't work out. I smoothened the piece of paper on which I had written down the pointers for the speech.

The more I focused on that shitty piece of paper, the more I became aware of how much my butt had comfortably sunk into the sofa. That and the odd and eerie feeling of someone watching me.

dropped as of january 2021.