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Post by Lightning Farron on Mar 29, 2011 17:31:18 GMT -5
I've loved you for as long as I can remember.
She folded the note card and dropped it into the box, calmly dodging the stares of the half of the class that was done filling out their own cards, and the hurried glances of the other section scrawling out other fragments of their soul to add to the store.
I'm gay, but don't tell my friends.
I was raped.
People call me fat, but I'm pregnant.
My best friend is addicted to heroin.
The majority of the people that stood, looking over the wall as each card was gradually taped up in a grid pattern, with their hands folded or carrying books or around their friends' shoulders - the majority of them thought she was an overzealous Christian preaching about her love for God.
The card next to hers didn't help much.
I'm a Christian and I hate Muslims.
Of course, they were anonymous. The cards, blank but for the secrets they bore, were a stark message to the onlookers that would spend a moment in between classes to read the walls of comments. On one hand, they caused sympathy to well up; on the other, disgust.
Most of the student body had seen the Wall, as it was dubbed, for at least a moment. Those who hadn't were driven away by the bouquet of black, white, and red roses and a picture frame that had appeared below the mosaic the next morning.
The note card held significance for one person, at least. White-faced, but not crying ( the tears had dried for now ), she knelt at the foot of the wall and just stared.
I love you too.
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