- - - SHE SPINS Apr 15, 2012 3:31:53 GMT -5
Post by DEMIA ALEESHA PRICE on Apr 15, 2012 3:31:53 GMT -5
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cray/wren. words 600. outfit. notes; c:
It wasn’t that Demia chose to keep to herself, it was that she didn’t really know how to speak to people just yet. She was scared. Scared of rejection, of humiliation, of the harsh words that would no doubt come from the people she spoke to. People back home were not exactly the kindest. They didn’t exactly think of her in high regards, and for reasons that were far beyond her control. Demia could dye her hair to hide its ginger tone but it wouldn’t change the fact that it existed. Changing her appearance wouldn’t help the fact that it existed, it would just hide it. But it would always be there. The best she could really do was make sure that everything else about her appearance was acceptable. When she got a craving for a snack or food in general she simply convinced herself that she didn’t need it. She didn’t need it. She didn’t want it. Demia was in denial of how badly she was hurting herself. In denial about this being any sort of an issue. Dante helped, at least he tried to, but her entire life was revolving around making sure she wasn’t succumbing to the ugliness that people seemed to think she was infected with.
She stood in front of a wrack of snacks, little things like candy bars and tiny bags of chips, debating whether or not she should, or more importantly should, have one. She was trying to do the math in her head based on calories and fat intake and how much she had already had to eat today. Her tiny little voice somewhat whispered to herself, doing the calculations out loud just very, very quietly until she simply shook her head and looked down at herself. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth the weight she would gain. But she felt awkward coming to the store and not buying anything. What if they suspected her of stealing something, which had happened before. It was actually pretty common for people to suspect her of being a part of the stereotype for her ethnicity, even if she didn’t completely look it. So she spun around and quickly scanned over the contents of the store, grabbing herself a water bottle and starting to wander toward the notebooks and stationary.
Wandering, for the most part. She simply wandered and grabbed a pack of pencils and stopped to linger at the notebooks. She wanted one to write down her notes in as far as her diet went, but it would have to be something Dante wouldn't really want to look in. Something he wouldn't make a fuss about, because she didn't like worrying him. Nor did she really fancy the idea of him scolding her or lecturing her. Sometimes he forced her to eat a meal and she always felt so hideous afterwards. Uhg. Stop thinking about this, Demia. Just stop. Just find some cute little notebook covered in butterflies or something else girly that he wouldn't really have an interest in. She picked a few up and peeked inside at the way the paper was, wanting something just plain and simple rather than elaborately decorated corners and headers. Why did they need to be so fancy when all they would be used for was notes and scribbles? She finally picked one and spun around to head to the register, grasping in minor fright as she nearly ran into someone. "Wren!" she voiced with her hand pressed to her chest. "You scared me!" Which honestly wasn't all that difficult, to be honest.