Post by Deleted on Nov 17, 2010 1:31:54 GMT -5
So...I'll probably regret this later...but I wanted to share this with you all. It's a very real thing that too many people have to go through.
I am one of them.
~~~
"It looks so…weird." Meagan says, gazing at the planet model.
"I know," I laugh along, looking at my failed attempt at Neptune.
Nicholas comes up, tossing his arm carelessly around my neck. "Ooh, I know what'll make it better!" He pulls out the stick that held triton out from the planet. "It'll look good…" He sticks it out of the top. "Right there!"
"Oh, marvelous!" I cry, clapping for his achievement. "You're the next Picasso!"
He pulls his arm away to give a sweeping bow. "Thank you, thank you." He looks up with a mischievous grin. "I think I deserve a prize."
"Do you now?" I roll my eyes.
"Yep! Right here." He points to his cheek.
"Oh, I don't know…" I say with mock caution. "Meagan, should I?"
"Most definitely!" She giggles.
"I knew you'd see it my way." Nicholas grins, leaning down to give me a better angel to come at.
"If you insist," Sauntering up oh so flirtatiously I hold his cheek for a moment…
And whack his face in a soft slap. "That's just what you deserve."
"Oh ha ha." It's his turn to roll his eyes.
"Jo!" The teacher calls, phone pressed firmly to her ear. "They need you in the off—no?" she was talking into the phone again. "Jo? Are you sure?"
My chest is tight. Breathing is hard. Not yet.
"They need you at the deans." The teacher finishes, a confused look still on her face.
I nod silently. The tears were already in my eyes, unshed and burning. I can hear them talking as I walk away. "Jo? What could Jo have done?!"
"That's not like her!"
It's not. I get A's. I turn in my work. I don't talk in class.
What did I do to deserve this?
I continue to the deans office. The walk seems so much shorter than it should.
There are already tears making their way down my face. Why? Why now, when everything was so perfect?
I finally reach the office. No one noticed little ole me sitting down in the plastic chair of the waiting room. The dean didn't even look up. I'm not special.
I glance at my nails, finally grown back from when this happened last year. And just like last year, I gnaw on them, tasting the metallic nail polish Meagan and I had so painstakingly bestowed on them. I won't be able to paint the bloody stubs after this.
The airs still. I can't breathe. I shed my jacket, trying to be able to feel the wave from the miniscule fan in her office. It's no use, but at least I know I'm alive. No matter how tight it feels, I can see my chest rise and fall.
I'm here again. It's like seeing a horror film too many times over. You know what the end is. You know it's coming, but by the time it gets there, you jump and cower. It doesn't matter that you know who's behind the mask. He still threatens you.
The dean pokes her head out of her hole in the wall. "Johnson?"
I can't see my chest moving anymore. I'm not breathing and I know it. I can feel energy. FEAR, running from the tips of my ears right into my pinkie toe at the sound of my name.
"Are you miss Johnson?" She asks again.
Covering my blood covered fingertips, I give a quick nod. "Come on in." She ushers me, now looking down at me like I'm some disdained bug.
I'm not a bad kid. That's all I chant in my head. I swear I'm not. I want to scream it at her. I can't. My throats too tight for me to even mutter my name.
She keeps going on about what I did. It was stupid to let it happen, I know that, but I couldn't help it.
I was late.
And that's all it takes to set it off.
It happens to everyone. Everyone gets in trouble. Everyone's had that neon yellow slip handed to them across the table. Everyone's had detention.
It scares me.
Trouble scares me.
I can't be in trouble though. I'm a good kid, good student, get A's, do work, I jump, asking 'how high' on the way up.
A tiny detention shouldn't scare me.
But it does.
I shouldn't flip out just because I can't sit with my friends at lunch for ONE DAY.
But I do.
I shuffle from her office, invisible shackles pulling down my arms and legs. I can't make it to class like this.
But I can't let them know I'm weak.
I don't show up to school the next day.
Or the day after that.
I don't want to feel those stupid, scary feeling ever again. I know I will if I go back.
I'd rather stay in my nest of blankets.
THE END
I am one of them.
~~~
"It looks so…weird." Meagan says, gazing at the planet model.
"I know," I laugh along, looking at my failed attempt at Neptune.
Nicholas comes up, tossing his arm carelessly around my neck. "Ooh, I know what'll make it better!" He pulls out the stick that held triton out from the planet. "It'll look good…" He sticks it out of the top. "Right there!"
"Oh, marvelous!" I cry, clapping for his achievement. "You're the next Picasso!"
He pulls his arm away to give a sweeping bow. "Thank you, thank you." He looks up with a mischievous grin. "I think I deserve a prize."
"Do you now?" I roll my eyes.
"Yep! Right here." He points to his cheek.
"Oh, I don't know…" I say with mock caution. "Meagan, should I?"
"Most definitely!" She giggles.
"I knew you'd see it my way." Nicholas grins, leaning down to give me a better angel to come at.
"If you insist," Sauntering up oh so flirtatiously I hold his cheek for a moment…
And whack his face in a soft slap. "That's just what you deserve."
"Oh ha ha." It's his turn to roll his eyes.
"Jo!" The teacher calls, phone pressed firmly to her ear. "They need you in the off—no?" she was talking into the phone again. "Jo? Are you sure?"
My chest is tight. Breathing is hard. Not yet.
"They need you at the deans." The teacher finishes, a confused look still on her face.
I nod silently. The tears were already in my eyes, unshed and burning. I can hear them talking as I walk away. "Jo? What could Jo have done?!"
"That's not like her!"
It's not. I get A's. I turn in my work. I don't talk in class.
What did I do to deserve this?
I continue to the deans office. The walk seems so much shorter than it should.
There are already tears making their way down my face. Why? Why now, when everything was so perfect?
I finally reach the office. No one noticed little ole me sitting down in the plastic chair of the waiting room. The dean didn't even look up. I'm not special.
I glance at my nails, finally grown back from when this happened last year. And just like last year, I gnaw on them, tasting the metallic nail polish Meagan and I had so painstakingly bestowed on them. I won't be able to paint the bloody stubs after this.
The airs still. I can't breathe. I shed my jacket, trying to be able to feel the wave from the miniscule fan in her office. It's no use, but at least I know I'm alive. No matter how tight it feels, I can see my chest rise and fall.
I'm here again. It's like seeing a horror film too many times over. You know what the end is. You know it's coming, but by the time it gets there, you jump and cower. It doesn't matter that you know who's behind the mask. He still threatens you.
The dean pokes her head out of her hole in the wall. "Johnson?"
I can't see my chest moving anymore. I'm not breathing and I know it. I can feel energy. FEAR, running from the tips of my ears right into my pinkie toe at the sound of my name.
"Are you miss Johnson?" She asks again.
Covering my blood covered fingertips, I give a quick nod. "Come on in." She ushers me, now looking down at me like I'm some disdained bug.
I'm not a bad kid. That's all I chant in my head. I swear I'm not. I want to scream it at her. I can't. My throats too tight for me to even mutter my name.
She keeps going on about what I did. It was stupid to let it happen, I know that, but I couldn't help it.
I was late.
And that's all it takes to set it off.
It happens to everyone. Everyone gets in trouble. Everyone's had that neon yellow slip handed to them across the table. Everyone's had detention.
It scares me.
Trouble scares me.
I can't be in trouble though. I'm a good kid, good student, get A's, do work, I jump, asking 'how high' on the way up.
A tiny detention shouldn't scare me.
But it does.
I shouldn't flip out just because I can't sit with my friends at lunch for ONE DAY.
But I do.
I shuffle from her office, invisible shackles pulling down my arms and legs. I can't make it to class like this.
But I can't let them know I'm weak.
I don't show up to school the next day.
Or the day after that.
I don't want to feel those stupid, scary feeling ever again. I know I will if I go back.
I'd rather stay in my nest of blankets.
THE END