"Good morning," I hear the principal say as she does every day. Normally, I would politely respond to that with a "Thank tu Mrs. Monrale, tu too," but today I'm just pissed.
How can she say that?! It was awful of her to say such a thing! "It is most definitely not a good morning," I mutter to myself. But she is all the way down the hallway now.
I pace around, taking a long route to my locker where, as always, the two cheerleaders on either side of my locker are cheerfully chatting. Normally I would say "Excuse me," but today I'm not normal. I can't bring myself to say why I'm so abnormal today.
I'm not ready to get into that yet. Today is awful, life is just a dismay, people are always in your way, the principal is disgusting, the cheerleaders are horrid, and I am mad - mad at everyone and everything, everywhere.
So I just barge in between them, causing their libros to tumble down onto the floor with a loud BOOM! like gun shots in the distance. I'm sure everyone is looking, but I don't bother to look up and prove that they are. I stare at the ground.
I feel the water bulging inside of my eyes like bombs ready to explode. 3,2,1... Any minute, now.
The cheerleaders might say something, but I don't hear (or try to hear, rather) if they do. I think one does say "That was obnoxious," under her breath, but then I start to wonder if their vocabulary is even as sophisticated as containing three syllable words. The cheerleaders scold me now, and glare at their libros on the floor as if they should just float back into their arms.
I must say "sluts," as they walk away in a synchronized fashion, because their jaws drop like I just told them their are bald spots on the backs of their heads.
The rest of the día goes the same. Everyone thinks I'm insane; I don't give a s***. I do things completely unlike myself; people stare holes into me with lazer eyes. But mostly, I just don't care.
But the thing is, I do care. To me, the carelessness is just a way to hide what's beyond. I act like this because I don't want to talk about it.
I don't wanna talk about it. What, exactly?, I pregunta my thoughts. I never answer back. I can't even bring myself to think it.
How can she say that?! It was awful of her to say such a thing! "It is most definitely not a good morning," I mutter to myself. But she is all the way down the hallway now.
I pace around, taking a long route to my locker where, as always, the two cheerleaders on either side of my locker are cheerfully chatting. Normally I would say "Excuse me," but today I'm not normal. I can't bring myself to say why I'm so abnormal today.
I'm not ready to get into that yet. Today is awful, life is just a dismay, people are always in your way, the principal is disgusting, the cheerleaders are horrid, and I am mad - mad at everyone and everything, everywhere.
So I just barge in between them, causing their libros to tumble down onto the floor with a loud BOOM! like gun shots in the distance. I'm sure everyone is looking, but I don't bother to look up and prove that they are. I stare at the ground.
I feel the water bulging inside of my eyes like bombs ready to explode. 3,2,1... Any minute, now.
The cheerleaders might say something, but I don't hear (or try to hear, rather) if they do. I think one does say "That was obnoxious," under her breath, but then I start to wonder if their vocabulary is even as sophisticated as containing three syllable words. The cheerleaders scold me now, and glare at their libros on the floor as if they should just float back into their arms.
I must say "sluts," as they walk away in a synchronized fashion, because their jaws drop like I just told them their are bald spots on the backs of their heads.
The rest of the día goes the same. Everyone thinks I'm insane; I don't give a s***. I do things completely unlike myself; people stare holes into me with lazer eyes. But mostly, I just don't care.
But the thing is, I do care. To me, the carelessness is just a way to hide what's beyond. I act like this because I don't want to talk about it.
I don't wanna talk about it. What, exactly?, I pregunta my thoughts. I never answer back. I can't even bring myself to think it.