9

A part of me wanted to get into the conversation, but I knew it was rude. I wasn't the greatest to announce you'd overheard what someone was saying. The two boys reminded me of my own younger siblings. I probably wasn't that much older then the two I was following, and I wasn't pretty enough to draw attention, but I'd been forced to grow up faster then most people my age so while I was more mature then most people my age, my mentality could flip on a switch. I could literally go from the most mature person in the room to laughing at stupid sarcastic jokes like a twelve year old. 

I saw anyone three or more years younger then me as children. I couldn't help the way I saw people younger then me, but I made sure to treat them as equals whenever I could. I had a caring almost mothering side of myself that would come out more often then I wanted. More people joined the group headed toward the hotel. None of us made an effort to speak to one another, and my mind felt as if it was being squeezed as I resisted the urge to start talking to fill the silence around me. 

Many of them were military types or otakus. There were quite a few cocky cosplayers mixed in as well. Wearing clothes similar to their favorite characters. Some people were flat out wearing costumes based on their favorite anime or zombie show. Some of the woman were wearing outfits that revealed way more of their body then I cared to see. 

Some of the men were the same. I kept my eyes down on their feet as much as I could because I simply couldn't look at their outfits without being irked. The longer I looked the more I wanted to say something. At least their genitals weren't showing. I couldn't exactly judge them. 

I really did try my best not to care or judge. The fact that I thought what they were wearing was disgusting was my personal opinion, and really shouldn't leave my mouth unless I wanted to piss someone off. Right now I was probably one of the weakest people around since my two skills had nothing to do with combat. I fiddled with my keys as I walked. Focusing half my attention on playing with the buttons on my keys as the rest of my mind focused on where I was walking. 

I checked my bag to make sure my wallet was with me one more time before we entered the hotel. There were clear directions from here where to go if we planned on volunteering. I slid into the line calmly, and waited. Somewhat glad that I wasn't near anyone that was wearing anything particularly revealing. I liked that clothes hid some of the lines on the human body. 

I didn't need to see overly tight clothes that told me where every mole was on your back. I didn't even like clothes that tight on skinny people. I liked there to be a little space between people, and their clothes. Not necessarily baggy, but loose enough that you could pull you shirt or pants away from your body if you wanted to. Clothes that looked like they were glued or painted onto someone's body really disturbed me. 

Clothes like that on someone who was severely obese just made it worse. I pulled out my phone, and focused on distracting myself while the line moved at a snail's pace. They must be doing interviews for everyone in the line to see who was going to be a problem. I seriously doubted that everyone here was going to be accepted. I scrolled through social media as I worried about my weight. 

I was about eighty pounds heavier then I was supposed to be. I couldn't really help it. I liked food, and wasn't in a hurry to date so why would I need to be some skinny stick figure. I shifted on my feet a little self conscious about my weight. The fact that I was two 240 pounds, and only about five foot four just compounded the face that I was heavyset. 

I didn't have a problem doing my job, and I worked hard when I did work. I hadn't been unemployed more then six weeks since I'd turned eighteen. Sometimes working two jobs at once to try to get ahead of the slowly rising rent my mother forced on me as soon as I got a paycheck. At first it was a nice five hundred a month. Which really doesn't sound unfair until you look at the context. 

I had to share my room with multiple siblings. I had no personal space. I was expected to do what my mom asked when she asked me to do it, even if I didn't have the time. If I told her I couldn't do what she asked she would emotionally blackmail me until I did it anyway. She had me so low that all I wanted to do was cry, and apologize. 

If I did cry I was put down, and called a baby. Those weren't even the worse things she'd even said to me. I usually didn't push back against her simply because I was completely convinced that I was supposed to do what she said. I would only push back when my legs felt as if they were burning from my two jobs. Sometimes my knees would pop painfully as I walked, and yet I still had to do what she wanted or risk her coming down on me as if I'd shot her dog. 

Half the time these things that she desperately needed could have waited a day or two because she still had a bit more of them. She literally only made me go because she could. She knew I would do it if she pushed enough no matter how much it hurt to walk, and she would break me down even more if I refused. Moving out was terrible. It compounded my depression.