Weakness Is Just As Ugly-Alexis

She sits in the stall and cries. I text in the stall next to her. I know who it it from her feet. "They explode!" as the others say. I try not to make things worse, but I yell at her to, "Stop crying like a punk." She stiffens, but she knows it's the best thing anyone has ever done.
It ewas a hot day in these halls. From the windows in Mr. Gowans classroom I could see the bleeding trees. Math, science, reading, and all the other school life drigted pass me undisturbed. That was until I saw her. "Hideous!" I thought. Who was this thing? It smiled at me and waved. I felt my face turn up in disgust. I quickly turned my head and giggled at the thought of me and her possibly being friends. I mean, look at her. She had those exploding feet, scarred up unshaven legs, a too big sports bra, a shirt that had been worn too many times, and that face! I had to compose my laughter so no one would ask about my giggles.
Then, she sat next to me. Oh My God, she sat next to me. Why would she do that? Did her mind entertain the very thought of me actually conversing with her?
I was so embarrassed that she sat next to me. I pondered on what people would think. So there I sat, silently.
As I was embarrassed, I viewed myself as a coward. Why was I so afraid of what these other people thought? Why was I the one afraid?
Day after day she was tormented by these people who seemed so sweet. Most would say I was a sweet girl as well, but I secretly felt like I was one of them. Although the comments were mainly to myself, I was a bully. Even though I had tried so consciously not to be, I had subconsciously become one of them.
I saw this girl as strong. Probably the strongest girl I knew. It took more than just physical muscles, but emotional muscles too. It had to take alot to keep going like she has. People treated her like she wasn't even human. They practically tortured her. I never understood what it took for her to come here everyday. These people had no sympathy. She was strong.
As I stood in the bathroom stall texting, I heard a weep. I heard a few. I saw a tear drop on the floor. She was a barrior, and over time, these unsympathetic people broke her down. By breaking down her facade, the water from her hurt flooded though her eyes.
I knew who it was from her feet. They exploded like the others said. But for this time and in the future I promised, I forgot about the physical aspects of her. I did not see all the things that made her unpretty, but I saw all the things that made her weak. This is when I saw what made her truly ugly. I wanted her to be strong all the time. So, I showed her no sympathy towards her weakness as I said, "Stop crying like a punk!"
She stiffened, and I could hear her choke back her tears. She now knows that it is more important for her not to be weak, than not to be pretty. Those "pretty" people were weak. And to me, that made them uglier than her.