pt 1

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There is something heavily misplaced in my soul. I have an toxic relationship with it. I can sense its evil intentions brewing in me all the time. And yet, it brings me comfort. It's like a warm cat sat upon my lap to bite my hand but I don't even care because I could use the company on this rainy day. I walk to school while the cat gnaws. I could've taken the bus but what fun would that be? Besides, the cat seems to like the rain.

9 AM

I sit in my advisory class like nothing is wrong with me. I flash a smile at the friends I have that have never really known me. Not really, anyway. I am hungry. The cat purrs. It feels disdainful. I can wait 'till lunch.

10 AM

I walk into the dreaded math classroom. I can hardly ever think. Sure, I am an academic person. I care about my grades, been described as a "joy to have in class". However, something about these particular numbers on this particular day make my head hurt. I sigh and try my hardest, but I can't help but pet the cat.

11 AM

The cat is crying for a morsel of food. Yet I feel it almost taunting me. As if I were to give it food the cat would think of me as a fool. Sluggish, gluttonous fool. I wait. Soon will come lunch. A fateful everyday decision that further rots my steadily dying brain.

Lunch

I feel the judging eyes of my classmates as I sit down with my plate of food. The cat meows. I make a point not to touch the tray. My stomach growls. A farce. I sit and chew the dead skin on my lip as my stomach eats itself. I am relieved. I have barely noticed a person sit down in front of me. They look worried.
"Are you okay?" They ask. What a ridiculous question. There could only be one answer for a person like me.
"Yes." I lie.
Anyone couldn't help but notice they were beautiful. Skinny, brown eyes, 4c hair styled into braids with colorful beads on the ends. I wouldn't mind if they sat with me forever, yet their concerned stare is still boring through my thick skull. Finally, their next sentence penetrates the dead minute-long silence. "You should eat something." They whisper-yell. Pleading, yet mysteriously authoritative. I would kill to let them look at me forever. The cat is yowling. I can feel its growing hate for the caring person in front me. I stop stroking the cat.

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⏰ Last updated: Feb 06, 2022 ⏰

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