Back in the Saddle

Class is Exhausting

Karl's POV:

I shove my books into my bag, desperate to get back to my dorm and start my weekend. My classmates all stand around, having soft conversations with each other about what their weekend plans will be, but I don't bother to join them. I go straight to the door, ignoring the look my professor gives me as I walk past his desk.

I have no desire to converse with these people; I want merely to get home and heat up some mac and cheese before retiring to the couch and binging a random Netflix series. Social interaction holds no interest for me right now, but rewatching Stranger Things for the seventh time does. And that is exactly what I intend to do.

Walking through the empty halls of the old school always makes me feel very lonely. It is an indescribable feeling: the large windows seem to taunt me with the happy looking trees and grass and sunshine outside the clear glass, the ornate decorations and furniture call out to me with the history they contain and remind me that I have none. I have no past here at this school and no calling card to show future generations that I existed. My time here is simply a chore, something I do because it is a necessity.

I lost my enjoyment of it a long time ago, as well as my motivation. Everything has gone down the drain: my grades, my participation, my reputation. Do I care? Not really. I go to class because I have to, but I scarcely pay attention anymore. It all just seems sort of pointless.

I don't mind that I have to go all the way across campus to get from my final class of the day to my dorm room, it gives me a long period of time where I can put my headphones in and ignore all my thoughts. That's what I do now as I admire the scenery, despising the hot, humid weather of North Carolina in June. I would much rather be somewhere cold right now, huddled up in a blanket by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate in my hands.

But I left all of that back in Minnesota a long time ago.

I stick my keys in the lock of the door, having to jiggle it a bit so it will unlock. Once I'm inside and refreshed by the cool air conditioning, I throw my bag onto the mud bench and collapse onto the couch with my face buried in a pillow, groaning a bit as my tired eyes threaten to close. I have no real reason to be as tired as I am: it's not like I've actually done anything today.

I push up off the couch and wander into the kitchen, searching the cabinet for the box of Kraft mac and cheese that I've had my heart set on all day. I finally find it and snatch it eagerly, going to the stove and beginning to make it. As I cook, my mind ventures off into meaningless thoughts that aren't actually relevant to anything.

Such as what my roommate, Schlatt, is doing right now. Seeing as it's Friday, he's probably on his way to a party at some frat house. In the past, he's offered for me to accompany him, but I always turned him down, so eventually he stopped asking. I can't do parties anymore. Ever since the accident, I can barely bring myself to talk to someone else, let alone go right back to the place that started this all. If I had been smarter back then, I wouldn't be in the horrible situation I'm in now.

Once the mac and cheese is done, I grab a soda from the fridge and sit back down on the couch, turning the TV on. Just as I'm about to take my first bite, I am interrupted by my phone, which is sitting face down on the coffee table, as it begins to go off. Annoyed, I pick it up and decline the call without even bothering to check who it was and toss it onto the couch beside me.

After turning a random show on, I go back to my food and am about to try and take a bite again when my phone starts to ring once more. I huff and grab it, pressing the green button displayed on the screen and putting it to my ear.

"Yes?" I ask with an angry tone.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Did I interrupt you?" the kind voice of my aunt says through the phone, immediately stifling my anger.

"Oh no, I'm sorry aunt Kristen. I was just about to eat," I answer, feeling bad for snapping at her.

"No worries! I was just calling to check up on you, but I'll let you get back to it. I'll talk to you soon!"

"Yeah, see ya."

With that, she hangs up. I sigh and let my phone drop as my head hits the couch cushion behind me. This is maybe the fourth time she's called me in the last two weeks, and the hundredth in the past year. Ever since it happened, everyone has been acting so concerned about me, and it drives me nuts. Sometimes it irritates me more than the incident itself. I hate being treated like a child rather than the adult I am, but for some reason, they all seem to think I'm this fragile old doll that will break if you use too loud of a voice around it.

I appreciate that they care, I really do, but I'm not sure how much longer I can take her biweekly calls and constant checkups. My whole family walks on eggshells around me and they barely make an effort to hide it. They're trying to help, but little do they know that they are doing the most aggravating thing that they could possibly be doing.

Will I tell them that? Probably not. I hardly ever see them aside from holidays, so I should be able to conceal my rage until it gets better. Hopefully.

I pick up my fork, shovel some noodles onto it, and take the first bite of my food.

Word Count- 1021

a/n- yes, i know how short this is, and i promise it gets longer and more interesting after this, but you gotta start somewhere. this story took me about five months to write, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i did while writing it!