Why Was I Thrown Out?
Why Was I Thrown Out?
Year 8, Bossley Park High School
I hang there excited. The store lights shining bright as I wait for a person to purchase me. I wouldn't say I was unique as everyone else. There were copies of me in the back and hundreds of others in the front, either folded on a table or left on clothing hangers.
My intricate pattern that many others wore was unavoidable to the human eye. My long fabric, popular with many costumers, were comfortable and soft. It was simple, someone would look, touch and prod, twist the small cardboard piece, even try me on if I was lucky. But I was never taken home.
Until she found me.
She, like any other person, was browsing around for some clothes to wear. Her attire covered enough; a small pile of leggings and t-shirts were strewn across her arm and she was looking for more. Just like everyone did. She looked, touched and prodded, twisted the cardboard and wore me too. But what was different was that she didn't put me back, she carried me to the cashier and with a quick,
I was finally able to go to a home.
I sit there tired. The colours of last night were vivid, the heat of the crowds was suffocating, the smell of alcohol was pungent. It was engraved in my fabric and I loved every bit of it. Everyone complimented me and my owner's entire outfit, I was quite bashful. Hopefully when my owner wears me again, everyone will compliment us like before.
I was hanging outside, soaking up the sunlight. The wind drifting me around softly as the droplets of water disappear into the warm air. My long fabric was completely dry at this point, as well as many other garments that were hanging with me. The girl, I called my owner, quickly took us off the line, placed us in the closet and shut the door to a close.
It's pretty dark in here.
The past three months have been uneventful. The closet rarely opened, only every forty-eight hours; I'm pretty sure I have gained a layer of dust and I've rarely seen much light at all. Even when it opens up it's either to put more garments in or to wear something that's not me. It's cramped with boxes and plastic bags filled with even more clothes. T-shirts, leggings, jeans, crop tops, and so many others reside in this cluttered space. She could fill a whole store with everything in this closet.
I want to get out of here.
I lie there helpless. On top of a filthy cloth-ridden mountain, as I wait to decay and rot. The sun was blazing away my colour, the intricate pattern fading away. She decided to throw me away, after only wearing me once. What a shame.
I stayed in that stupid and dark closet for a year, waiting to be worn again and I get this. Was I not good enough? What caused them to throw me out so quickly? I had a beautiful design, I was impeccable quality, yet I was worn only once. Why was I thrown out?
Oh... I get it.
They were bored of me.
What a lame excuse.
To throw something away like a rotten fruit just because you were bored. To throw something like me away like a rotten fruit. I am a piece of clothing that lasts for years. I was supposed to help her from the cold, be a part of her outfits, to last her a lifetime.
Now I say this again.
Why was I thrown out?