what's the worst thing?

You know what's the worst thing in the world?

I used to think it was a myriad of things.

When the dance was around the corner, I thought not getting asked out was.

That wasn't the worst thing in the world.

Getting asked to the dance by the last person you thought would, and not in a good way, and realizing that someone you wished for will never like you.

That wasn't the worst thing in the world.

Day after day, I watch my best friend bring the center of attention of everything and everyone. Becoming the green monster in front of my own eyes, I wished that it was I instead of her and relished in her faults. However, deep down inside, I feel disgusted for even entertaining those thoughts in the first place.

That wasn't the worst thing in the world.

When I come home from school, I drop my belongings carelessly. I look into the mirror and I see what I don't want to see. I trail my fingers through my curly, frizzy locks, wishing to have beautiful hair-a celebrity's hair. I look distastefully upon my figure and call myself fat, thinking about how many calories I ate today. Trying to cheer myself up, I think of all the exercise I am about to do and how much weight I'll lose. But in the end, I crawl down the stairs, grab the first bag of junk food I see, and flop on the couch thinking it won't make a difference.

That wasn't the worst thing in the world.

It's the end of the day and I'm tired of keeping up that happy smile. All I want to do is get my homework out of the locker that I know I am going to procrastinate on, and walk home with blaring music basting to my ears to get me to calm down. I ignore all the crowds of people who purposely bump into me and allow myself to squeeze through a small opening. I'm about to let out a sigh when a girl is backed up against my locker. And as much as I want to tell the hormonal couple to get off my locker, I have to wait. I have to wait for the guy to give her a kiss. I have to wait for the girl to blush and move out of my way because the guy doesn't care about me and how I want to leave. I quickly get my things and run out of the building. I walk down the staircase until I find a place where no one will notice me. I feel like crying because even though I was angry with them for getting it on in front of my locker, I envied what they both had.

That wasn't the worst thing in the world.

The night before was tiresome and waking up the next morning feels like a slap in the face. I want more sleep but it's already noon. I have homework that needs to be done and another delightful week of school starts tomorrow. I figure it would be best to do it all now, that way I can sleep earlier tonight so I won't feel like crap in the morning. Absentmindedly, I finish each assignment, but then it comes to my favorite part: reading. I grab the newly assigned English book and hungrily start. I don't know how long I read for, but it seemed like only minutes before I hear the front door open—it's probably Dad— and slam—Dad is angry. Should I go downstairs and say hello? But like the coward I am, I continue reading. It's not long before the loud tirade follows. It's first heard downstairs, no doubt directed to my brother. But this isn't a surprise, he wasn't doing his homework. Sighing, I continue with the page. Seconds later the booming voice commands me to come down. Descending the stairs, I have no idea what is going to happen. Mom isn't home to keep him calm? Is he going to hit me this time? He directs me to follow him. He turns on me, but before he even starts, I transform into the five-year-old, completely silent—omitting the crying, I've gotten over that. He finishes off with the blistering accusations, which are never stated the same but always with the same meaning. "You are so spoiled. You should be appreciative of all that your mother and I give you. While you are sitting on your ass, we are working ourselves off! Get your shit together and stop being such an inconsiderate bitch!" Nodding, I swallow all the arguments that bubble in my throat and go to my room and let the tears silently fall down my face.

That wasn't the worst thing in the world.

To be honest, I'm not really sure what is anymore.