“I’ve never been the confrontational type. I wouldn’t say I don’t have a backbone, though I do know some people who would tell you stories to prove me wrong. I also don’t think I’m shy–well–maybe I’m a little shy but sometimes even a shy person like me can break. For me, I guess it was because of the bigger picture.”
Out of all the people she could look at, Diana couldn’t bring herself to look at anyone but the two girls in the second row, each mirroring the other. Their dresses, though different in style, were both made of soft lace the color of a small blush. A color that contrasted with the none-too-soft and innocent air around them. The diablo duo.
“I know some of you were forced to be here.” Her gaze drifted over to her best friend who nodded his support, and she sent a silent thank you his way before taking a breath. “But I thank you for coming here to honor…” Diana turned to look at the large framed photo of her in a soft yellow blouse “…this top.
This shirt used to be my favorite top, but the people in this room took that from me. I thought about taking something from you too but, instead, I want to give something to you. Something you probably don’t want. So I want to thank you and that top for a few things.”
Diana turned back to the group, her gaze returning to the girls who helped tear her world apart. “Thank you for being there to remind me that no matter how much someone may try, they will never fit in. I remember the day when you all laughed when I ran out of the classroom in tears because you thought it was funny to talk about my dead mother. That top was the last thing I had from her but you didn’t care. So thank you for showing me that valuing people means nothing.
Thank you, Riley, for helping me to see that a hundred dollar bag was worth more than a life. I remember the day I asked you to donate to saving children in need. You told me you didn’t have money for that but you couldn’t stop bragging about your shopping spree. I think that’s why you made fun of my shirt and offered to donate to me instead.
Thank you, Peter, for teaching me that even a prude like me can be worth your time. Do you remember spilling beer on me? I was in that top. And you told me at least now you can see what I hide under my shirts.
Thank you all for showing me that what matters most in this world isn’t love, trust, or honesty. It’s what we can buy, right ladies? It’s what you can charm or bully out of others, right, Peter? Sierra? Riley? It’s sex, popularity, money, power…but who cares, right? Cause I’m dead but you’re all here, at my funeral, shedding fake tears and lying about who you were to me.”
© Maura D., marsreine.wordpress.com, 2017